That her husband was not touching her anymore grew to be like a disease, something to be cured. Lucy crouched by the side of the grave, her head in her hands, rocking back and forth. F. Having ascertained by the breathing which room Thames occupied, he speedily contrived to fasten him in. 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.
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