Her husband had caught her leaning over a precipice into the ruins of the oubliette, and had punished her by flogging her back with a switch. The stairs creaked as Mark rushed down them. “A ballot-box, you know,” he said, “is very largely just a box. Full as she was of him, it felt good to shower her kill out of her hair. When he saw, his roars could be heard across the lagoon. .
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