Terence, meanwhile, who had followed him, did not remain silent, but recapitulated his story, for the benefit of Mrs. “What do you mean, hanging round with my wife?” he answered fiercely. “This,” he exclaimed, “must be either the indifference of an utterly callous nature, or it may be—ye gods, it may be—innocence. His fingers slipped under the collar of her linen shift and he tore it open with a swipe. Lassitude?” “I suppose so. “I saw him stagger and sink down, and the pistol was smoking still in my hand. .
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