There were dark rims under her eyes, soft now with unshed tears. She heard her husband’s heavy tread descending the stairs, and the wheels of his carriage as he drove off. “I am not dependent upon any one. But between us, we'll have him writing books some day. It was a bogus affair altogether, kept by some blackguard or other of an Englishman. ” “I hope,” he answered, looking at her in some surprise, “that we shall have many more such to think about. It is no problem. . Those lives removed,—and Sir Rowland is completely in his power, the estates would be yours—HIS! if he were your husband. ” “I am highly flattered,” she remarked, with subtle irony.
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