He now understood her interest in Taber, as he called himself: habit, a twice-told tale. If I’d meant it, my girl, you’d be dead meat. Slash and cut as much as you please. ‘Hilary, thank God! Have you a pistol about you? Or better yet, your sword. ’ Gerald let out a sigh both relieved and satisfied and repeated the name. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. At other times he seemed to have regained the normal completely. He saw her young and graceful back as she descended from the carriage, severely ignoring him, and recalled a glimpse he had of her face, bright and serene, as his train ran out of Wimbledon. After a certain amount of manœuvring, however, he was induced to crawl around, and in a few minutes came to stop again before a tall brightly-painted house, which seemed like an oasis of colour and assertive prosperity in a long dingy row. She pulled the trigger.
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