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. ” “I say,” she reflected, “you ARE rather the master, you know. ” “You remembered. He backed away from her. The Master listened, with becoming attention, to the narrative, and, at its conclusion, shook his head gravely, applied his thumb to the side of his nose, and, twirling his fingers significantly, winked at his phlegmatic companion. “How odd that I should almost spring into your arms just on my doorstep!” she remarked gaily. There was a strip of old rose brocade in the making that set an ache in the girl's heart for the want of it. You’ll need that. "I knew he would," replied the Amazon.
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