" "So she was," replied the woollen-draper, helping himself to an enormous pinch of snuff with the air of a man who does not dislike to be rallied about his gallantry,—"so she was. "I'll fetch it. The echo of those kindly words seemed still to ring in her ears. “Not too bad. “Please stop fighting me. On the contrary, it was impossible to look at him without perceiving that his resolution was unshaken. But always this new phase in life which civilization called convention threw up barrier after barrier. "Enough," said Jack, recovering his composure. Yet she held her tongue. 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.
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