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. ’ ‘Well, I am glad he did not,’ intervened Lucilla, forestalling another withering comment from the captain. Remember what the conjuror said. The telegram dispatched, his obligation cancelled, Ah Cum proceeded homeward, chuckling occasionally. Through her door curtain she could see the light from the study lamp. “Lord!” she said.
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