When they started getting on each other’s nerves, she blamed herself at first. “A man like that taints a girl by looking at her, by his mere conversation. For days I have been undecided as to whether I would come to you or no. I would that you were my own. The packets were hastily broken open; and, while Wood was absorbed in the perusal of the despatch addressed to him by Sir Rowland, Thames sought out, and found the letter which he had been prevented from finishing on the fatal night at Jonathan Wild's. There was a coffee equipage on the table, and some sandwiches, and the fire had been recently made up. Her skin prickled. E. Wood, regarding her husband with a glance of vindictive triumph.
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