It was better even than the hymn-singing. "My God! will you see your child strangled before your eyes, and not so much as scream for help?" said Wood, staring at the widow with a look of surprise and horror. I suppose it depends on her own state of mind. ‘I kissed you once, didn’t I?’ Her pulses jumped and she stared. My mind is full of ideas and images that I have been cherishing and accumulating—dreams of travelling side by side, of lunching quietly together in some jolly restaurant, of moonlight and music and all that side of life, of seeing you dressed like a queen and shining in some brilliant throng—mine; of your looking at flowers in some old-world garden, our garden—there are splendid places to be got down in Surrey, and a little runabout motor is quite within my means. The next minute, I contrived, without either of 'em perceiving me, to convey it into my own pocket.
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