Lucy went hunting on a Thursday night. In vain Wood protested his innocence. She did not understand the note of hostility to men that ran through it all, the bitter vindictiveness that lit Miss Miniver’s cheeks and eyes, the sense of some at last insupportable wrong slowly accumulated. The truth at once flashed across his mind. But to go courting a slave-girl, at the risk of physical hurt! A shudder of distaste wrinkled her shoulders. “How has the world taken it?” he asked. She is no longer mine; she is yours. Are you now satisfied?" "No," interposed Wood, furiously, "I shall never be satisfied till I see you hanged on the highest gibbet at Tyburn.
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