"Poor thing!" muttered he, as the widow departed on her errand, "she's seen better days and better circumstances than she'll ever see again, I'm sure. “It is the same man, Annabel,” she said. ‘Do you not understand that I can trust no one—no one?’ ‘That is a pity,’ Gerald said, rising to face her. E. He had been ill; no matter about that: he recollected every thought that had led up to it and every act that had consummated the deed. Do you know, Annabel, that you are my wife.
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