Besides, she had read somewhere that though love was everything to a
woman, men were different and could do quite well without it.
She went into the dressing-room, turned up the night lamp, and looked at
her watch.
It was one o'clock. At two a stage passed northward along a road on the
farther side of Fairview. She could easily make her few preparations in
half an hour, walk to the nearest point on the route of the stage in time
to stop it and get in, then while journeying on, decide what her next step
should be.
She packed a hand-bag with such things as she deemed most essential,
arrayed herself in a plain, dark woollen dress, with hat, veil, and gloves
to match, threw a shawl over her arm, and was just turning to go, when a
thought struck her.
"I ought to leave a note, of course; they always do."
Sitting down at her writing-desk, she directed an envelope to her husband,
then wrote on a card:
"I am going away never to come back. Don't look for me, for it
will be quite useless, as I shall manage so that you can never
trace me. It breaks my heart to leave you, my dear dear
husband, for I love you better than life, but I know I have lost
your love, and I want to rid you of the burden and annoyance of
a hated wife.
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