Wood was unable to discover the figure of the widow, but he recognised her dry, hacking cough, and was about to call her down, if she could not find the key, as he imagined must be the case, when a loud noise was heard, as though a chest, or some weighty substance, had fallen upon the floor. It did not take a mind reader to glean that she had suddenly gained the boy’s obsessive attention. She flushed with desire and happiness, her husband had returned to her and all would be aright. They may love us, but they love us as the slave loves his captor, not as equals.
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