“How are those books any different from the witchcraft books?” “I dunno. What sort of proof? There are no papers at Remenham House. I wish”— she found she had embarked on a bad sentence—“I wish we needn’t have quarrelled. She was, by certain signs, charged with anger, but she saw upon the faces of these two young fools the look of angels and an ineffable kindness breathed upon her withered heart. I never realized how fabulous all those homemade dishes were. By this time, she had so far succeeded in calming herself, that she answered the greetings of the neighbours whom she encountered on her way to the sacred edifice—if sorrowfully, still composedly. If all wives were of my mind and my spirit, husbands would soon be taught their own insignificance.
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