“You belong to me,” he said fiercely; “the marriage certificate is in my pocket. She heard him crash against it, and turned the key in the lock. She was dressed in a simple evening gown of soft creamy silk, with a yoke of dark old embroidery that enhanced the gentle gravity of her style, and her black hair flowed off her open forehead to pass under the control of a simple ribbon of silver. "Few stay more than a day.
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