A slow horror was dawning in his fixed eyes. Before many minutes elapsed, he had picked a large hole in the plaster, which showered down in a cloud of dust; and breaking off several laths, caught hold of a beam, by which he held with one hand, until with the other he succeeded, not without some difficulty, in forcing out one of the tiles. “No man can realize,” she said, “what that pit can be. There were sidetables and a writing table, similarly buried in bric-a-brac, and the chair by the French doors could hardly be seen for blankets. “You belong to me,” he said fiercely; “the marriage certificate is in my pocket.
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