"To-night it is their turn," said Jonathan, binding up his wounded fingers with a handkerchief. “I had lunch very late to-day, and I did not get home in time for dinner. She had traversed perhaps three bookshelves, passed across the door that must lead to the hall, turned the corner, and was just about to reach the fireplace when she abruptly became aware that something under her fingers had felt wrong. Stanley, having pretended to linger to smoke, fled suddenly up-stairs to petrography, and when Veronica tapped he answered through the locked door, “Go away, Vee! I’m busy,” and made a lapidary’s wheel buzz loudly. “Am I dull?” she said. Not us. I am a murderer. 70 <9> A MARRIAGE, PART II She dreamt of the inn they had stopped at after her suicide attempt, the flea-ridden hostel her husband had angrily toted her to after the incident at the country house. . ” “Bring her—here,” Hill muttered.
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