"I knew that would bring him to," thought Wild. 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. " He passed it over; and Ruth read: To be opened in case of my death and the letter inside forwarded to the address thereon. He was always word-building, a metaphorist, lavish with singing adjectives; but often he built in confusion because it was difficult to describe something beautiful in a new yet simple way.
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