As time went on, she began to think Martha had been mistaken. She sat on the edge of her bed and looked about her, at her room, at the row of black-covered books and the pig’s skull. ’ ‘I do not lie to you now,’ she said, near frantic at the thought of losing him. “You do not even know what you are talking about. Kneebone," observed Shotbolt, as he emptied his tenth tumbler; "I'm sure he's meditating an escape, and hopes to accomplish it to-night. He looked no longer at his wife. You know not what a wretched guilty thing I am.
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