Sheppard," cried the carpenter's wife bitterly; "and, I repeat, Bedlam's too good for her. She answered in whispers, for there was the white arm of a woman in the next box peeping beyond the partition within a yard of him. The candles—for McClintock never used oil in his dining room—were burning low in the sconces. They used the rope—not that a rope was at all necessary, but because Ann Veronica’s exalted state of mind made the fact of the rope agreeably symbolical; and, anyhow, it did insure a joint death in the event of some remotely possibly mischance. Two souls in travail; one inspired by fresh hopes, the other, by fresh despairs. Wood, in deploring his wild career, adverted to the melancholy condition to which it had reduced his mother.
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