I have healed and I am still your wife!\" She looked at him desperately, his eyes illuminated by firelight. The houses they flitted to and from were glutted with hangers-on, servant/mistresses, and errant prostitutes. She was in excellent spirits, and it was not until she had taken off her hat, and was considering the question of dinner or no dinner, that she remembered that another day had passed, and she was not a whit nearer being able to pay her tomorrow’s bill. ‘Your wife?’ ‘My wife,’ he repeated, rising also, his smile mocking her. A few minutes later Sir John left the room. Have you brought me a message from my sister? I understood, I believe, that she was seeing you last night. But then he began to take steps, and, at last, strides to something more and more like predominance. That’s— that’s my private life.
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