The next moment, a struggle was heard, and Blueskin appeared at the door, followed by Mrs. Your husband could have told you that. It was like pouring a strong acid over dulled metal. Nevertheless there came a residuum of expostulations. So I packed up and came to London next day. "My coat!" he repeated, his glance burning into hers. Still, his robust frame enabled him to hold out. "Goodness only knows what he's reserved for," rejoined the widow in a desponding tone; "but if Mynheer Van Galgebrok, whom I met last night at the Cross Shovels, spoke the truth, little Jack will never die in his bed. But after all, what did it matter whether she had secrets or not? To him she was not a woman but a symbol; and one did not investigate the antecedents of symbols. She forgot Anna’s sacrifices, forgot her own callousness, forgot the burden which she had fastened upon her sister’s shoulders. So she took up Stevenson and began to read aloud.
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