The struggles of the wounded man were desperate—so desperate, that in his agony he overset the table, and, in the confusion, tore off the cloth, and disclosed a face horribly mutilated, and streaming with blood. . ‘Do that again,’ he said softly, ‘and I’ll make you sorry you ever came to England. Aunt and niece regarded each other silently. He made a quick movement towards her, but she did not flinch. And this great mellow place, this London, now was hers, to struggle with, to go where she pleased in, to overcome and live in. She was crushed with a sense of her own terrible impotency.
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