‘It is you who is the fool,’ she threw at him, whipping round again. He shall expiate his offences on the gibbet. She felt him sometimes at night as he called to her in her dreams. "My own father!" Queerly the room and its objects receded and vanished; and there intervened a series of mental pictures that so long as she lived would ever be recurring. Ramage, that iron-gray man of the world, appeared dressed in a bowler hat and a suit of hard gray, astride of a black horse. To her, marriage would be a buckler against the two evils which pursued her. It was in no sense confessional; it was a state of mind in the patient the doctor had already anticipated. She paced restlessly to the door and back again, biting her tongue on the hot words begging to be uttered. They would be partners only in loneliness.
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