But it’s as you say. My wife—killed me. The touch of his lips neither thrilled nor alarmed her, because the eyes that looked into hers were clean. It is what I have done. If he adhered to this policy—to keep away from her inconspicuously—she would forget the name by night, and to-morrow even the bearer of it would sink below the level of recollection. The Victorians over-did it a little, I admit. God knows how you did it.
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