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” She stopped buttoning her glove, and looked at him. She sat on the edge of her bed and looked about her, at her room, at the row of black-covered books and the pig’s skull. To stumble upon the trail through the agency of a bottle of whisky! Drank queer; so his bottle had rendered him conspicuous. She walked down the station approach, past the neat, obtrusive offices of the coal merchant and the house agent, and so to the wicket-gate by the butcher’s shop that led to the field path to her home. She speedily reached her own abode,—a little cottage, standing in the outskirts of the village. She would rend him limb from limb like a fiend if only she could move. Had she expected to wed Valade herself? Had the fellow broken a vow of betrothal, or abandoned her? He must find out more. She was trembling a little. . But a woman’s life is all chance. Thunder rumbled behind the manicured hills. One side of the face was white with foamy lather and the other ruddy-cheeked and blue-jawed. With this person—who was no other than Mr.
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