He swore that I was his wife, and—I shot him, Nigel, as his arms were closing around me. Maggot, bursting into a loud contemptuous laugh. ’ ‘Comment? You wish to murder me?’ ‘No, I wish to beat you,’ he retorted. The unfortunate woman was stretched upon the floor, with a bloody knife in her hand. The cloth was removed, and Wood, drawing the table as near the window as possible—for it was getting dusk —put on his spectacles, and opened that sacred volume from which the best consolation in affliction is derived, and left the lovers—for such they may now be fairly termed—to their own conversation. Capes?” she heard her aunt saying. “It is not an easy matter,” he said, “for me to offer you an altogether adequate explanation.
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