He had informed her that to leave him would be a choice to live a life of meager subsistence. T’weren’t fitting, we knew that. For four hours he had shifted his own troubles to the shoulders of these imaginative characters. ‘Looks like it. Some day I may forgive you; but not now. Her new husband had paid for a cadre of escorts back to Mantua. She is like some character out of Phra the Phoenician: she's been buried for thirty years and just been excavated. She stopped abruptly at the sound of his voice, and lost the thread of what she was saying.
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