“Why shouldn’t one face the facts of one’s self?” She stood up. “I beg your pardon,” he said, “but you appear to be a fellow countrywoman of mine, and in some distress. “I expect it is pretty well in shreds by now. Hartford had a very respectable sound. ” “Many other people,” she remarked, “have made the same mistake. Perhaps that sealed letter was a form of confession, and thus relieved him on that score. Perhaps because I don’t know. It is I who am persecuted by the man who calls himself your husband. As he passed along the main thoroughfare, he heard his own name pronounced, and found that it was a hawker, crying a penny history of his escapes. She felt she had to go on.
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