“What a beautiful mare’s nest!” she exclaimed. There is not a soul in the inn but ourselves. 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. You keep on coming truer, after you have seemed to come altogether true. What else could one say? I left him to suppose—a registry perhaps. And next morning she attired herself with especial care and neatness, found his address in the Directory at a post-office, and went to him. Behind Mrs. Dizzily, she grabbed at the mantel for support and, resting her head on her hands, paid no heed to a betraying sound behind her—until an unexpected arm encircled her. And I have made such arrangements that at my decease tardy justice will be done my injured nephew.
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