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. To find the true father at the expense of the beautiful fairy tale Ruth had woven around the woman in the locket was an intolerable thought. Mrs. She passed inside and upstairs without a word. “There are two things to be done,” he said softly to himself. If he died, here in this hotel, who would care? Or if she died, who would care? A queer desire blossomed in her heart: to go to him, urge him to see the folly of trying to forget. ‘I knew you would be furious. You are wrong even about that man’s scientific position and his standard of work. She paced restlessly to the door and back again, biting her tongue on the hot words begging to be uttered.
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