I wish I could get you to imitate Thames Darrell. “You know what? You’re right. “But I am your husband,” he said. The person, shortly afterwards ushered into the room, seemed by the imperfect light,—for the evening was advancing, and the chamber darkened by heavy drapery,—to be a middle-sized middle-aged man, of rather vulgar appearance, but with a very shrewd aspect. “I do not think that he is quite dead. One peculiarity she did not fail to notice.
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