“No, I administered poisons to you according to the ancient tradition. "My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living. “There,” he said, “you don’t treat me fairly, Miss Stanley. But underneath this tolerance there is always the vague hope that your manhood will someday reassert itself. Of you, I mean. And as he walked by her side they began a wrangle that was none the less pleasant to Ann Veronica because it served to banish a disagreeable preoccupation. ” “I will tell her,” Anna promised. " "Quite the contrary," rejoined the woollen-draper, laughing good-humouredly. " "That likeness is the chief cause of my misery," replied the widow, shuddering. They were now in a sort of cellar, at one end of which was a door. His shadowy eyes revealed two things: that he was oversensitive in his extreme intelligence and that he suffered an acute insomnia.
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