’ She paused, struggling for the word. The fellow swore lustily, in a voice which Jack instantly recognised as that of Quilt Arnold, and vainly attempted to rise and draw his sword. She went on her way now no longer dreaming and appreciative, but disturbed and unwillingly observant behind her mask of serene contentment. ‘Hollow. “So you still think of me as husband, even though we have long since tired of each other.
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