"Be it so," replied Jack. He touched her hand, soft and cool to his fingers—she turned at once to look at him. Ice had begun to form in the shallows. Wood became sensible that he was not alone. Her husband stared at her over the candle flame. It was one of those old sliding trap affairs, narrow and steep of descent. Her husband sat in a chair beside her bed, his head in his hands. Those who act wickedly bring misery on all connected with them.
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