“Did you ever see women so weary-looking and so dowdy? They do not talk. She mentally reprimanded herself to alter her own visage so as not to appear depraved. "You are no longer Thames Darrell," she said, casting her eyes rapidly over it; "but the Marquis de Chatillon. And my wife won’t live with me for reasons that I think most women would consider sound. It is I who am persecuted by the man who calls himself your husband. He rose at once to his feet and turned a white face upon her. Giles's church, the bell of which continued tolling all the time, passed the pound, and entered Oxford Road, or, as it was then not unfrequently termed, Tyburn Road.
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