Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. He laid down the knife, and fixed a searching and distrustful gaze upon the writer, who continued his task, unconscious of anything having happened. Her nurse says she may live some time; but she seems to me to be sinking fast. I’m okay. ” Lucy wanted badly to believe her. ’ A sudden frown sprang to the fellow’s face.
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