“Actually, I am, it is terribly stupid. It resembled Mardi Gras, and she thought disdainfully of New Orleans. "I strangled him—ha! ha! ha!—strangled him while he was at my breast—ha! ha!"—And then with a sudden and fearful change of look, she added, "That's what has driven me mad, I killed my child to save him from the gallows—oh! oh! One man hanged in a family is enough. ‘Damnation! Too late. Here and there, a rectangular patch, darker than the rest, showed that some had been removed. It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative. He knew that tragedy was as blind as justice, that it struck the child and the grown-up impartially. ” “Well, why not?” Lady Lescelles asked, smiling. E.
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