Wait, though. ” He put his head on one side, pulled down the corners of his mouth, and looked at her over his glasses. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. At the door to the kitchen, he called out, ‘Pottiswick!’ The old man came out, shoving his chin in the air and glaring. "Shall I take the babby home with me!" persisted Wood, in a tone between jest and earnest. He was always drawing contrasts between a woman’s lot and a man’s, and treating her as a wonderful new departure in this comparison. " "Can you make me honest?" cried Jack. linked image back linked image back MADEMOISELLE AT ARMS Elizabeth Bailey © 2011 by Elizabeth Bailey All rights reserved.
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