They stank, and she hated how they blocked the sunlight. Her husband stared at her over the candle flame. Some shadow of reserve seemed to have crept up between them. “Do you hear!” she said “whatever you are, wherever you are! I will not be slave to the thought of any man, slave to the customs of any time. Nor did he content himself with declaring his guiltlessness of the crime imputed to him, but began in his turn to menace his captor and accuser, loading the latter with the bitterest upbraidings. Spurlock grew cold. The light of memory flashed in the man’s face.
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