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“Dear husband,” she murmured. " "When you heard what was going on, why didn't you send for me?" "I didn't know it was going on. She listened with dumb fear in her eyes. " "For procuring my imprisonment?" "For saving your life. "How have you managed to communicate with him?" Abraham, who had listened attentively to the foregoing conversation,—not a word of which escaped him,—now drew in his breath, and brought his ear closer to the boards. “I fail to see the joke,” Sir John said. The man was my husband. Her long incarceration at the convent in Blaye had taught her to be dismissive of her own appearance. During all their long comradeship he had never so much as ventured to hold her fingers.
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