She realized dimly that there was no personal thing behind his cry, that countless myriads of Mannings had “My God!”-ed with an equal gusto at situations as flatly apprehended. Over the gateway towards Snow Hill, were two strong wards, called the Castle and the Red Room. She found herself mildly entertained by staring at the houses through the rain as she walked home, all cast in a gray blurry film noir gauze of rain. Her eyes fell, and then sought his again with timid interest. Wood, regarding her husband with a glance of vindictive triumph. "If I were so, I should not be here," returned Trenchard. My own impression is that he already knows.
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