The latter took from his pocket a small note-book and pencil. ” He stuttered. He swore that I was his wife, that chance had given me to him at last. ‘Jacques, where are you hurt?’ But as she asked the question, she saw the wound. She knew that to expect more now was like anticipating a gold-mine in the garden. ” She looked at him doubtfully. ” He looked at her with white, set face.
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