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. She was only a few yards from the door, but lacked the courage to rise and fly. The idea of your being a failure would never have occurred to me. His grey eyes burned under his shaggy eyebrows. And now for the fawney— the ring I mean. She felt a hysterical desire to strike him, to burst out crying, to blurt out the whole miserable truth.
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