“I’d never have a day of peace again, John. ‘But for how long?’ Lady Bicknacre asked apprehensively. I have it on my conscience that I offended you—” “Offended me when?” “I’ve been haunted by the memory of you. The young male, as she had actually seen him, had been of the sailor type, hard-bitten, primordial, ruthless. She stared at him and thought the words, “My husband, my husband. I wonder what men would say if we threw the mask aside—if we really told them what WE thought of them, really showed them what WE were.
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