Aunt Jane had her quiet moments. ” She shrugged her shoulders and led him towards a small recess. ‘His wife? Pah!’ ‘You’re saying she is not his wife?’ ‘I am saying nothing. But if I were dying of thirst, in a desert, I would not accept a cup of water at her hands. By and by—as the paroxysm subsided and he became motionless—she stole back to the bungalow to wait. “It is not an easy matter,” he said, “for me to offer you an altogether adequate explanation.
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