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Wood then led the way up a rather high and, according to modern notions, incommodious flight of steps, and introduced his guest to a neat parlour, the windows of which were darkened by pots of flowers and creepers. She could not bear the shame of it. " "I do not say that what you have done is wrong in any sense. ‘You’re either mad, or in love. “Odd!” she said. She would often steal away to tryst with him in the orchard, even now she felt her loins grow warm with the memory of his ardor. I felt I MUST do something anyhow, and up I came just as soon as I could to see you. Perhaps in two or three weeks. Shrinking involuntarily back into the farthest corner of the seat, Jack buried his face in his hands. You are in the hands of a wicked, a terrible man, who will not stop till he has completed your destruction.
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