Dizzily, she grabbed at the mantel for support and, resting her head on her hands, paid no heed to a betraying sound behind her—until an unexpected arm encircled her. I have brought disgrace upon you, and I haven’t been the right sort of wife at all. I do not admit the truth of a word which you have said. You must be lonely here with only a few men friends. Capes saw her, felt for her, cared for her greatly, even if he did not love her. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. Are you now satisfied?" "No," interposed Wood, furiously, "I shall never be satisfied till I see you hanged on the highest gibbet at Tyburn.
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