’ ‘That depends, that does,’ said Trodger guardedly. At first she could not tell what it was; but as her eyes became accustomed to the light, she recognized the old coat. Her thoughts took words for themselves. Nevertheless, Sir John had the look of a man who was enjoying himself. He knew that he could translate literally. 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. "Tom! Hey, Tom!" The Chinese cook thrust his head into the dining room.
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