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. There was something very wrong. ” She said, ignoring the absurdity of her own statement. ” He digested her statement as part threat and part promise. “I’ve been to hear you lots of times. "The devil you have! Then, perhaps, you can tell me when he intends to put his threat into execution?" "What threat?" asked Jackson. Much more temperate; the discreet and joyless love of a virtuous, reluctant, condescending wife.
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