" Winifred looked as if she could not indulge such a supposition for a single moment. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. But I've not promised to stand by him yet; nor will I, unless he turns out an honest lad,—mind that. You've betrayed yourself, Thames. And if I hadn't been thirsty, that poor boob would have made a sure getaway and left James Boyle high and dry among the moth-balls! Oh, the old dome works once every so often. She battled with a deadly faintness, and she tottered rather than walked back to her seat.
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