" CHAPTER XIII. "It's all over," groaned Wood, "and perhaps it's as well her senses are gone. A thin mist lay on the river, giving the few craft moving about in it a ghostly look. He hated travelling second-class with her—indeed, he never did—but he also disliked travelling in the same train when his daughter was in an inferior class, because of the look of the thing. Why do women take to lies and deceit and trickery as naturally as a duck to water?” “You are not alluding, I hope, to Miss Pellissier?” Ennison said stiffly. ’ ‘You have seen him? Exactement. The less she lived, in fact, the better.
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