Still keeping ahead of his pursuers, he ran along the direct road, till the houses disappeared and he got into the open country. Fortescue’s steps, and encountered him with an air of artless surprise. Who knows?—on the analogy of “Squiggles” she might come to call him “Mangles!” “I don’t think I can ever marry any one,” she said, and fell suddenly into another set of considerations that perplexed her for a time. 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.
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