There was one letter. His expression altered. At least, I hope so for his sake as well as my own," he added, mentally. . ’ His colour deepened. He grunted, and his grip gave. Why else?’ Gerald stared at her blankly. I never forgive an injury. One or two of the tables were occupied by groups of fat frowzy women in flat caps, with rings on their thumbs, and baskets by their sides; and no one who had listened for a single moment to their coarse language and violent abuse of each other, would require to be told they were fish-wives from Billingsgate. It isn’t illusions—for us. But just now there is nothing which you or anybody can do. And turning again, as if the emotions she had churned up kept her on the move, she paced back to the mantel and there stopped, staring at her own reflection in the tarnished mirror. A thin mist lay on the river, giving the few craft moving about in it a ghostly look.
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