Briefly explained, she was as the child who discards the rag baby for the living one. "I knew how it would be," she cried, in the shrill voice peculiar to a shrew, "when you brought that worthless hussy's worthless brat into the house. Fortescue raised his eyebrows and assumed a light-comedy expression. And you need not fear that I shall not give back the sword when I have finished using it. The unpleasant oily chill of fever overtook her body, and she watched in horror as Sebastian carried her to his bed on his shoulder like a sack of flour.
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