“And now,” she said, splintering the surviving piece of coal into indignant flame-spurting fragments with one dexterous blow, “what am I to do? “I’m in a hole!—mess is a better word, expresses it better. “He means nothing!” She whispered loudly. Then she called a hansom and drove home. ‘Let us go elsewhere and discuss the matter. Sometimes a whole morning would pass without Spurlock uttering a word beyond the request for a drink of water. The crowner's 'quest sat on her yesterday—and if she hadn't been proved out of her mind, she would have been buried at four lane-ends.
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