\" She opened the front door with her keys, stepping inside. There was granite in her face and agate in her eyes. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. Nigel Ennison was my very good friend, but there is not the slightest reason for your not marrying him, if you wish to do so.
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