Sheppard trembled violently; and though she understood his meaning too well, she answered,—"I can't guess. Something has happened to change her marvellously, either that, or she wilfully deceived me and every one else in those days as to her real self. She fought the inclination for a while, then surrendered. 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. I’ve seen Brewis Charvill, by the by. “Do you believe me now?” She asked. “I propose,” Sir John said, “that we pay for our dinner—which we haven’t had— tip the garçon a sovereign, and take a cab to the Ritz.
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