‘Do please continue,’ Gerald begged, deceptively docile. "I don't know what I think," Wood answered sulkily; and he bent his eyes upon the water, as if he wished to avert his attention forcibly from the scene. The struggles of the wounded man were desperate—so desperate, that in his agony he overset the table, and, in the confusion, tore off the cloth, and disclosed a face horribly mutilated, and streaming with blood. Her aunt, a faded, anæmic-looking lady of somewhat too obtrusive gentility, was still sitting with her hand pressed to her heart. His eyes were narrow with desire like a panther’s as he grinned at seeing her visibly satisfied. I felt—I felt living in a masked world.
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