"Perhaps. It was wonderful to think this thing had lived, had felt and suffered. It was as much accident as anything, but she had killed him. Nobody regards Constance or Vee as a delicate trifle. " "But you are young!" It was a protest, almost vehement. Then for the first time she was conscious of an unaccountable and terrifying sensation. " "Ha!" exclaimed her son, starting back, as he obeyed her, and disclosed Jonathan Wild. For the face under her gaze she could find but one expression—fine. “There, there, now. A small handgun bobbed at the end of it, aimed at Sheila.
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