‘One of your countrymen, perhaps?’ The girl clammed up, the moon of her white face staring up at him in the darkness. “Drive to 13, Montague Street, cabman,” she ordered. But, alas! she was beautiful—and beauty is a crime not to be forgiven by a jealous woman. The dismal tolling of St. “What a beautiful mare’s nest!” she exclaimed. She was faint from hunger, her head spinning into dizziness, the blood madness readying for battle. “Hey sis!” He cried drunkenly. “I love you, Anna, and I want you for my wife.
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