The contest, however, though desperate, was brief. . ‘You mean that his missus is pretending to be my mistress? Lord-a-mercy!’ ‘Precisely. His eyes flashed as he turned towards her. Here was no crooked soul; a little weak perhaps, impulsive beyond common, but fundamentally honest. They've paid for their lodging. “Why can’t you tell people that you are what you are? Why all the secrecy?” She looked beyond the farmhouse.
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