Then he slapped his hand on his desk and looked up with the air of a man struck by a brilliant idea. 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. Sheppard, so that if the blow had been stricken she must have received it. At the least, the tales had the ability to make her forget where she was; which was something in their favour.
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