“You mean to tell me” he said, “that you have a lover? While I have been keeping you! Yes—keeping you!” This view of life he hurled at her as if it were an offensive missile. The candles—for McClintock never used oil in his dining room—were burning low in the sconces. We are linked together in this matter, and must go through with it. ‘Quite wrong, monsieur. My father has made every possible inquiry, and offered large rewards; but has not been able to discover the slightest trace of him. She was quite oblivious to the sensation she had created. Wood fancied he recognised.
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