She proffered her neck towards him. She descended the stairs, and found herself at last in the street—alone. “Very well,” he said. Drummond,” he continued, looking across at his vis-à-vis, “we look to you to give expression to our sentiments. A post-chaise seen in the road first alarmed us. “And, after all, I am just one common person!” She watched the throb of the arteries in the stem of her neck, and put her hand at last gently and almost timidly to where her heart beat beneath her breast. She had already killed more than she wanted to count, yet she had counted them still. She thought of him as always courteous and helpful, as realizing, indeed, his ideal of protection and service, as chivalrously leaving her free to live her own life, rejoicing with an infinite generosity in every detail of her irresponsive being. The guards, horse and foot, and constables formed a wide circle round it to keep off the mob. There are also the letters which were scattered about Wild's room after the murder of Sir Rowland.
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