I speak no harm of her. I am your husband, though as yet your hand has scarcely lain in mine. “That,” he said, grimly, with his hand on the doorhandle, “must be your own affair, unless you choose to live at Morningside Park. “Sure, but it’s not like you’re married, you know. The Wastrel wiped the blood from his forehead. She silently willed him to stop his pacing, to calm down. Her figure was, in some measure, hidden by a large scarf, and a deep hood drawn over the head contributed to her disguise; still it was evident, from her lofty bearing, that she had nothing in common, except an interest in their proceedings, with the crew by whom she was surrounded.
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