dBooks desire

"She may, possibly. It is not likely now."
"Poor thing, and so young and beautiful! What a lovely face, and what
an arm! It is very awful for her," and Lady Honoria shuddered again and
went.
Outside the door a small knot of sympathisers was still gathered,
notwithstanding the late hour and the badness of the weather.
"That's his wife," said one, and they opened to let her pass.
"Then why don't she stop with him?" asked a woman audibly. "If it had
been my husband I'd have sat and hugged him for an hour."
"Ay, you'd have killed him with your hugging, you would," somebody
answered.
Lady Honoria passed on. Suddenly a thick-set man emerged from the shadow
of the pines. She could not see his face, but he was wrapped in a large
cloak.
"Forgive me," he said in the hoarse voice of one struggling with
emotions which he was unable to conceal, "but you can tell me. Does she
still live?"
"Do you mean Miss Granger?" she asked.
"Yes, of course. Beatrice--Miss Granger?"
"They do not know, but they think----"
"Yes, yes--they think----"
"That she is dead."
The man said never a word.


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