The next morning came a compact letter from her father. And then, for the first time, Wood noticed a small stream of blood coursing slowly down her cheek. “Does he never speak to you of—of old times?” she faltered. And it is your own fault that your husband dallies with me. Behind her stood Caliban, chuckling to himself, and grinning from ear to ear. Then I saw Mrs. “You see, Vee,” said Mrs.
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