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Of course I know nothing of what really did happen in Paris—if even you ever saw him there. ‘You keep a-hold of him,’ Trodger ordered his men. For what indeed does she do? A simple song, no gesture, no acting, nothing. You would not have believed me, I know well. 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. ’ ‘Aye, more’s the pity. I let him take me to the English Embassy, and we went through some sort of a ceremony.
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