“Quite particularly nice,” said her aunt. He had diverged only a little from the truth when he said that his chief interest in life was women. She began to tremble violently. ‘Didn’t mean it, love. Then she would be dead, and that was no use. Listening at one of the doors leading to the Master Debtors' side, he heard a loud voice chanting a Bacchanalian melody, and the boisterous laughter that accompanied the song, convinced him that no suspicion was entertained in this quarter. “My dear,” she said, when she could get her breath, “you must come home at once. My wife—killed me.
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