In the grate were some charred fragments of a marriage certificate. Every house-top, every window, every wall, every projection, had its occupants. As she did so the preparation-room door opened behind her. Even her memories of he who had frequented her life for the longest period of years were worn and fading. ‘He destroyed the papers?’ ‘That’s right,’ Roding said, throwing her a glance of frowning surprise, as if he had not rated her intelligence so high.
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