"What motive have you for concealment?" he demanded. I'm speaking of virtuous women—of WIVES, Madam. She stumbled through a thorny copse, her slippers sliding on patches of sand that gave way to rock. Something in her tone made him look up. Before the congregation separated, the clergyman descended from the pulpit; and, followed by the coffin-bearers and mourners, and by Jack at a respectful distance, entered the churchyard. Meet me. ‘She’s gone. ” “And he accepted meekly?” “Practically. As it is, I'm not sorry for the blunder.
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