His countenance was almost as white and rigid as that of the corpse by his side. The boiling under her stern, however, told him nothing. She had been fighting down this thought for days: that Hoddy did not care, that he did not love her, that he had mistaken a vagary of the mind for a substance, and now regretted what he had done— married a girl who was not his equal in anything. ‘We was of an age, you see, miss. What had actually beaten him was not to have known if someone had picked up his trail.
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