“You heard no pistol-shot?” “None. ‘Forgive my not rising to greet you,’ she said, holding out a claw-like hand. He swore that I was his wife, that chance had given me to him at last. How the deuce, though, am I going to account for her? People will be asking questions when they see her; and if I tell the truth, they'll start to snubbing her. Until now none of her prayers had ever been answered. In a voice husky with suppressed despair, she answered.
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