A brief feeling of empathy with Pottiswick passed through him. ‘Yes, th-there it is,’ she uttered, stumbling a little over the words. It was horrible, but what could she do? She meant to live her own life, and he meant, with contempt and insults, to prevent her. The roof was partially untiled; the chimneys were tottering; the side-walls bulged, and were supported by a piece of timber propped against the opposite house; the glass in most of the windows was broken, and its place supplied with paper; while, in some cases, the very frames of the windows had been destroyed, and the apertures were left free to the airs of heaven. She still kicked herself for it. I got myself locked up to cool off. ‘But I have the pistol,’ Gerald pointed out.
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