By this time, she had so far succeeded in calming herself, that she answered the greetings of the neighbours whom she encountered on her way to the sacred edifice—if sorrowfully, still composedly. “It was the night you left Paris. Wood, (for I never do anything without consulting my better half,) I'll take the boy, educate him, and bring him up to my own business of a carpenter. “What a gloomy person you are!” she murmured. It was clear that he meant to kiss her before she exited the car. What better way to be rid of him? ‘Jacques,’ she uttered urgently. To a woman she might have confided; but to this man, kindly as he was, it was unthinkable.
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