By and by—as the paroxysm subsided and he became motionless—she stole back to the bungalow to wait. Instead, they lived a Bohemian existence, moving from patron to patron, city to city. He swore that I was his wife, that chance had given me to him at last. Giving him a wide berth, and keeping her pistol high, she made her way to the door and warily peered through it. Much to my amazement, as soon as I was in her presence I forgot about my magic and thought only of love. The daughters, he had hoped, would be their mother’s care. A full-curled wig descended half-way down his back and shoulders; a neckcloth of "right Mechlin" was twisted round his throat so tightly as almost to deprive him of breath, and threaten him with apoplexy; he had lace, also, at his wrists and bosom; gold clocks to his hose, and red heels to his shoes. She would marry him. Her girl Clarice was next, dying within a single day, blood leaking from her pretty brown eyes like an image of the Blessed Virgin. They were at the corner of Pall Mall now, and had come to a standstill. She had never been "My child" or "My dear"; always her name—Ruth. She realized that no man had ever placed a mantle of respect upon her as Sebastian did; respect for more than just her pretty face and her now lost ability to bear children.
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