" "What is it?" asked the poor woman. Selling out of the Army to take up his inheritance had spelled boredom to Gerald Alderley. They conversed, or more or less she interviewed him. You ought to know that. What else could one say? I left him to suppose—a registry perhaps. Submission to the inevitable carried her through the circumstances of her appearance before the magistrate. The idea of anything criminal never entered her thoughts. ‘This is not love, Marthe. MANNING,” she had begun. But then—Oh! Madam, there are moments—moments of darkness, which overshadow a whole existence—in the lives of the poor houseless wretches who traverse the streets, when reason is well-nigh benighted; when the horrible promptings of despair can, alone, be listened to; and when vice itself assumes the aspect of virtue. She found him reclined, watching television in a small guest room hidden in a back wing of the massive house.
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