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. "Your master wants a few table-spoons, child," said Mrs. Raven locks fell to her shoulders from under the feathered beaver hat, and curled away down her back. Gerald noted the lady’s eyes brighten as she caught sight of him making his way through the throng towards her. ‘Else she would not have married that ne’er-do-well only because Jarvis proposed him to her.
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