My wife—killed me. She had looked up from her seat at the small round table in the centre of the parlour which, together with the wooden armchairs beside the small fireplace, and a sideboard next the single casement, was all the furniture the place afforded. Her body went into spasm. “We have scarcely mentioned your name. A conviction that her sister’s words were true had from the first possessed her. To make Ruth pay for the whole shot! To wash away his sin by crucifying her: that was precisely what he had set about. My politics in that matter wouldn’t be to give women votes. Here was a little corner of the past—a tragic corner. Wood, who were, furthermore, engaged in a little conjugal tête-à-tête of their own. It warms me, and lights me, and fills my world with flowers.
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