She looked at me as though I were some unclean thing, as though my soul were weighted with every sin in the calendar. A piece of seaweed touched her hand, tender and green. "Certainly not," replied Gay. ‘His wife? Pah!’ ‘You’re saying she is not his wife?’ ‘I am saying nothing. I daresay that is one of the names of the nuns in your convent. She walked for a mile or more recklessly, close veiled, with swift level footsteps, though her brain was in a whirl and a horrible faintness all the time hovered about her. She flushed with desire and happiness, her husband had returned to her and all would be aright.
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