I'm not noble; so my honourable ancestors will not turn over in their graves. Her husband sat in a chair beside her bed, his head in his hands. But he has since acquitted you of any share in it. And there are other guides. She crawled into her small bed, dizzy with the thoughts of him, of kissing him. Dizzily, she grabbed at the mantel for support and, resting her head on her hands, paid no heed to a betraying sound behind her—until an unexpected arm encircled her. Good riddance. I hate myself!” She collapsed to the floor, sobbing. CHAPTER XIX.
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