She came back with two women, one in each arm, which she threw down like sticks as she alit onto the stone causeway. But then he began to take steps, and, at last, strides to something more and more like predominance. ‘Your wife?’ ‘My wife,’ he repeated, rising also, his smile mocking her. By and by he ventured to peer into this window. “It’s still a marvel to me that we are to be forgiven,” she said, turning. “I am very glad that you have come here. After that, we'll go our several ways.
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