The Master of the Mint. 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. "Don't ask me about it now. Old farmhouses loomed as they whizzed by, left behind in the gray like mourners. His guardian angel warned Spurlock to speak carefully. She opened the window, for the night was mild, and sat on the floor with her chin resting upon the window-sill.
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