Maybe the girl was telling the truth, and then again, maybe she wasn't. ” “You do not deny that you are my wife,” he asked hoarsely. "What shall I say? Shall I tell you, or shall I leave you in the dark—as I must always leave her? What shall I say except that I am accursed of men? Yes; I have loved something—her mother. His shoulders were bent, his face was furrowed with wrinkles.
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