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. He and his friends (he had at least two per class, even in Trigonometry) would make their exits as quickly as possible. . She chuckled. "I shall go back and finish my supper," said Mrs. " "Six," he corrected.
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