She was new, unlike any other woman he had met in all his wide travel. She was tired, hungry—and thus somewhat impatient for the food Mrs Ibstock might bring—and downcast. It was supposed he was drowned in crossing the river, as his body had never been found. ‘And now,’ he said, drawing Madame to the seat, and contriving to sit close enough that his anatomy touched hers at several points, ‘let us talk about you, madame. He had been ill; no matter about that: he recollected every thought that had led up to it and every act that had consummated the deed.
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