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His mother's scream seemed again to ring in his ears, and he was so deeply affected that, fearful of exciting attention, he was about to quit the sacred edifice, when he was stopped by the entrance of Thames, who looked pale as death, with Winifred leaning on his arm. “Why?” he asked, suavely. Every now and then something familiar in her tone, the poise of her head, the play of her eyes startled him. Years ago, when you were a girl and in the bloom of your beauty, I loved you. Charcoal. ‘You wish to die?’ ‘Not in the least. And when there is no longer any need to use it, why then, enough you say—and throw it away. A white man takes his life in his hands. Her hair was of the darkest brown, and finest texture; and, when unloosed, hung down to her heels. And yet the secondary emotion was one of suspicion.
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