"I suppose I was mistaken," returned Gay. She had never even brought a friend home in her time at the Becks, let alone been asked on dates. Queens and Kings, as always, were made to be manipulated. You have threatened to kill me for nothing, I know not how many times. The silence of Canton at night was sinister, for none could prophesy what form of mob might suddenly boil out. 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. She was honest again.
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