To be confronted with the girl’s damned Frenchman of a husband was another matter altogether. But he seized the chance to entrap her fingers, fan and all, and look deeply into her eyes. You should go home today and get some rest. She held up the lamp. Are you now satisfied?" "No," interposed Wood, furiously, "I shall never be satisfied till I see you hanged on the highest gibbet at Tyburn. But, like all your overbearing sex, you must have your own way. The dusky obscurity of the room was twice welcome. But to go courting a slave-girl, at the risk of physical hurt! A shudder of distaste wrinkled her shoulders. She was sore and overstrung, and it was intolerable to her that he should stand within three yards of her unsuspectingly, with an incalculably vast power over her happiness. When she came to, she was lying with her head in Martha’s lap, and a livid bruise was forming at the point of a raging headache.
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