It does not matter to him either way. “This,” he exclaimed, “must be either the indifference of an utterly callous nature, or it may be—ye gods, it may be—innocence. ‘What do you mean?’ Gerald grinned. “It was a bad day for me,” he said, speaking slowly and painfully. It must be my fault that you have not learnt that your husband is the man to come to—at such a time as this. The time was the 26th of November, 1703: the place, the Mint in Southwark. People always rejoice at the misfortunes of others—never at their own! The droll dogs! how they must have enjoyed it!—ha! ha!" "I dare say they did. Listening on the dimlit landing, he saw Roding’s face muscles tighten. Yet he stays. Every inch of the house felt safe to her, small and welcoming.
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