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. . Nice goings on. And now Ann Veronica’s evenings were also becoming very busy. This was no night for the indulgence of dreamy musing. She breathed deeply of the starch of his shirt. You needn’t be in any doubt about it. “Well,” she achieved at last.
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