"Thank you, sir," said Spurlock, holding out his hand. “What you have said is a ridiculous falsehood,” she declared scornfully. “Where is my beautiful wife?” He bellowed from the downstairs. “But all the rest of our case is right. Pure luck! If the boy had grown a moustache or a beard, a needle in the haystack would have been soft work. She had intended to be quietly dignified, but he was in a smouldering rage from the beginning, and began by assuming, which alone was more than flesh and blood could stand, that the insurrection was over and that she was coming home submissively.
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