Wet as he was, he felt if he lay down in the grass, he should perish with cold; while, if he sought a night's lodging in any asylum, his dress, stained with blood and covered with dirt, would infallibly cause him to be secured and delivered into the hands of justice. The villagers were thronging to church. Then he did give way a bit. “You belong to me,” he said fiercely; “the marriage certificate is in my pocket. Even her memories of he who had frequented her life for the longest period of years were worn and fading.
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