Horrible memories of things seen beneath the microscope of the baser forms of life crawled across her mind and set her shuddering with imagined irritations. She stole a few glances at John as she stood and played the pieces. Here was a terrific figure gnashing his teeth, and howling like a wild beast;—there a lover, with hands clasped together and eyes turned passionately upward. You are not my husband. \"You're so strong. “She’s my wife,” the man muttered. I’m not mad that he has eyes for you instead of me, not mad at all.
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