She fell into another depression, refusing to touch Sebastian or call him husband when he demanded it. This she put into the trunk. It rained slightly, and a thick mist gathered in the air, and obscured the beautiful prospect. She had looked up from her seat at the small round table in the centre of the parlour which, together with the wooden armchairs beside the small fireplace, and a sideboard next the single casement, was all the furniture the place afforded. A gust of irrational impatience blew through her being. ‘I am done, Gérard. "Enough!" cried Jonathan, eagerly pocketing the memorandum.
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