Knives were worse, especially when you were stabbed back and left traces of your own blood at the crime scene. Wood did think of it, and groaned aloud. “Further than that, I am amazed that you should dare to allude to those few moments, to that single moment of folly. One mistress enough to ruin a man,—two, the devil. McClintock, striking a match to relight his cigar, broke the spell. When she entered the office a strange scene was presented to her startled gaze. His lawful wife; but nothing more; beyond that she was only an idea, a trust. “Who’ll mind the baby nar?” was one of the night’s inspirations, and very frequent.
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