For it was but logical that she would seek a divorce on the ground that she had unknowingly married a fugitive from justice. The thought of them distressed her without subtracting at all from the oceans of happiness in which she swam. Clean water. When he faced Spurlock, the granite was cracked and rived; never had Spurlock seen such dumb agony in human eyes. She threw him his car keys. She smiled mechanically at the audience, holding her violin limply, feeling the hot lights on her made-up face. As soon, however, as the last solemn rites were over, and the remains of the unfortunate woman committed to their final resting-place in Willesden churchyard, his firmness completely deserted him, and he sank beneath the weight of his affliction. Instinctively she knew—some human recollection she had inherited—that she must not disturb him in this man-agony. “I wonder if you will?” “Let me say one thing,” he said. But, as he made no answer, he was removed. Suddenly she had become afraid.
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