‘You mean that his missus is pretending to be my mistress? Lord-a-mercy!’ ‘Precisely. Wood was so much exhausted that he was obliged to retire to his own room, where he continued for some hours overpowered by grief. If I'd not gone mad, they would have hanged me. But when she learns that you are a fugitive from justice…. She had gained respect all about town with news of her fine marriage, and her reputation as a beauty was expanding. Sometimes she missed her cue and nodded affirmatively when the gesture should have been the reverse; and Prudence would send her a sharp glance of disapproval. There was a flash and a loud report. Die game. I believe I am doomed to be an old maid.
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