“Eight, Cavendish Square. “Where to?” he asked, as the hansom drove up. He sat up in his chair again, the colour came back to his cheeks. She was afraid people would follow her, she was afraid of the dark, open doorways she passed, and afraid of the blazes of light; she was afraid to be alone, and she knew not what it was she feared. The teacher turned towards the blackboard to inscribe the names of Capulet and Montague. She was clad in fresh linen, but still wore the riding-habit she had appropriated, having sponged out the spots of blood late last night and left it to dry in the kitchens. And Capes was thinking that his wife was a supremely beautiful woman. "If any one's to blame, it's me. They ought to put a lamp. like rabies. ” She said. He forgot for the moment his own self-pity, the egotism of his own passionate love.
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