“I will tell you something if you like. 265 The madness crept around her like smoke under a door. Martha was quite right. Then she cursed herself for his eyes went to the letter and came back to her face. He poured a pinch of tobacco into his palm and sniffed. Her secret thoughts made some hasty, half-hearted excursions into the possibility of telling the thing in romantic tones—Ramage was as a black villain, she as a white, fantastically white, maiden. Do not imagine that I cannot do so, as well as I can this Gérard. It was as if the Devil himself had raped and defiled her mother. During this dreadful pause the wretched man felt for his sword. She could have kissed Cathy.
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