A jar of pink roses upon a tiny table seemed to gain an extra delicacy of colour from the sombre curtains behind. "She is my lawful wife. ‘I’m not going to arrest you, young Jack—yet. "I had no thought of injuring your wife, and would have died rather than commit so foul a crime. “There wasn’t. ” She took the pocket-book and looked up at him with a little impulsive movement. Mind, when we were all growed up, it were different. The stretch of red dirt disappeared into a stretch of trees like Van Gogh’s painting.
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