The joy of being loved thrilled her as nothing before had ever done, a curious abstract joy which had nothing in it at that moment of regret or even pity. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. “It is nothing of any importance. ‘Martha was my wet-nurse? But she is unmarried. During the previous night he had been restless; and in the lonely dragging hours his thoughts had raced in an endless circle—action without progress. Mind, I am anticipating events. "Well, how goes it?" he asked. An ugly flush stained his cheeks. ‘I never met a rat what wandered about the place with a lantern, I didn’t,’ grumbled the old lodgekeeper aggrievedly. It’s Providence. CHAPTER II. He encouraged her to join him in his debauchery. It is no fault of your own that you are not at this moment standing there with your head blown off.
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