“These are the playgrounds of life. She met his eye for a moment in curious surprise. Once more breaking through the hedge he took to the fields. He wore a threecornered hat, a sandy-coloured scratch wig, and had a thick woollen wrapper folded round his throat. She would not look at him, would not think of him; when her mind wavered, then she muttered to herself in the darkness so as to keep hold of her generalizations. She took to listening through closed doors. They tried to read illustrated papers in an unconcerned manner and with forced attention, lest they should catch the leaping exultation in each other’s eyes. ’ He saw that Mrs Sindlesham, for all her vaunted freedom of speech, was honestly shocked by this revelation. But this revulsion was engulfed by the succeeding waves of pity and understanding. How could she tell him of the evil that drew her and drew her, as a needle to the magnet?—the fascinating evil that even now, escaped as it was, went on distilling its poison in her mind? "Yes, yes!" said the doctor.
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