"Why you pretended not to recognize the photograph of the young fellow you toted around these diggings all day yesterday. Wood—" "That's false!" cried a voice behind him. A stout wooden shutter, opening inwardly, being removed, disclosed a grating of iron bars. Of course she had taken the boy as her lover, acting as his muse. Supposing they find you and take you away?—and she unprepared? Have you thought of that? Why did you marry her?" "God alone knows!" "And you don't love her! What kind of a woman do you want, anyhow?"—with rising anger. She's too pretty and unusual. ‘If you had met her, you’d understand. "For my part, I don't think you ever quite got over the accident you met with on the night of the Great Storm.
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