Crack went the whip, and away floundered the heavy vehicle through the deep ruts of the ill-kept road, or rather lane, (for it was little better,) which, then, led across Southampton Fields. ‘Never trust a gun in female hands,’ grumbled Hilary, dropping the nun’s habit and backing to join his friend. Wood was dressed with more than ordinary care, and in more than ordinary finery. That was supposed to be Madame Valade. “Why should one pretend?” she whispered. “Was I that bad?” He asked. ” “You do not deny that you are my wife,” he asked hoarsely. " "So do I," replied Ruth.
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