It wouldn’t be you. ” Then it was her father issued his ultimatum. “Some day you will be my wife, and it would not be well for either of us to remember that in these unhappy days you and I were separated. Such was the condition of his mind that the danger exhilarated rather than depressed him. Doubts began to rise up all about her, plucking at her confidence. It has been a big night. Anna, why will you persist in this single-handed combat with life?” “Don’t!” she cried. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. ’ ‘A pox on the creature,’ swore Mrs Sindlesham, clenching and unclenching her stiff fingers.
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