" "Anything, my dear," replied Wood, "What is it?" "Bury us together in one grave in Willesden churchyard. The necessity of defending herself and assuming a confident and secure tone did much to dispell the sense of being exposed and indefensible in a huge dingy world that abounded in sinister possibilities. I do not know how I shall get it, but I must, you understand. Poor soul! she nearly died when she heard he had robbed his master; and it might have been well if she had done so, for she never afterwards recovered her reason. “How gratified she must have been! If only I had known I would have made an effort to get home in time for dinner. She realized more and more the quality of the brink upon which she stood—the dreadful readiness with which in certain moods she might plunge, the unmitigated wrongness and recklessness of such a self-abandonment. “You know what? You’re right. As this had been Mrs. Wood. But still you have told me of my real mother when I thought it was Suzanne Valade.
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