He recognized the handwriting, and turned a shade paler. Spurling: "I blush for you, Sir! To call yourself a man, and interfere with the natural course of affection! Have you no feeling for the situation of those poor disconsolate creatures, about to be bereaved of all they hold dear? Is it nothing to part with a husband to the gallows? I've lost four in the same way, and know what it is. After all, his was a pleasant face, and a pleasant voice, and very likely Annabel had behaved badly. There stepped forth a tall brown man. ‘Laisse-moi,’ she threw at him, her brief attack of sobs already ended, although the trace of tears on her cheeks bore witness to its sincerity. You’ll be telling me Gerald did not catch you snooping at the Bicknacres, I suppose.
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