“How shall I put the question? What am I? What have I got to do with myself?. The crowning aspect of the incident, for her mind, was the discovery that he and her indiscretion with him no longer mattered very much. “And you must please not look at me as though I were an executioner,” she declared lightly. She lunged without warning again, and Gosse, just catching her blade on his own, was obliged to retreat backwards up the little stair. I am your husband, though as yet your hand has scarcely lain in mine. "I told you that before," rejoined Wood, testily.
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