He would never be able to figure out that: all these miles from Cuba, and you could get a perfecto for thirteen cents. All other things were without weight or consequence before the fact that this poor young man would have to depend upon her for his life. “He’s got almost to like it. I should as soon think of trusting a woman. It’s the rarest luck, the wildest, most impossible accident. Doubts began to rise up all about her, plucking at her confidence. And he departed, just as Wood, who had become alarmed by Thames's long absence, made his appearance with a blunderbuss in his hand. The man was my husband. “It is an annoyance, my friend,” she said, “not a tragedy. It is better to face the truth.
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