“It is a hateful story. From what she could tell, he truly had convinced himself that he was in love with her, but she knew that his ardor would fade eventually inasmuch as she knew John’s would. ” She picked at her sandwich idly. Sir James Thornhill, then, rose. My wife—killed me. I deemed it more prudent to send him to the Dark House than to bring him here, in case of any search after him by his adoptive father—the carpenter Wood. “But why,” he said in the gasping voice of one subduing an agony, and looked at her from under a pain-wrinkled brow, “why did you not tell me this before?” “I didn’t know—I thought I might be able to control myself. You will also become a very rich man, though I wish that the circumstances had been different. "Drink your peg; don't bother about me. "Leave him to me," he said.
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