The question ceased to be a tea-table talk, and became suddenly tragically real for Ann Veronica. ‘This idiotic female—’ ‘This imbecile has made me—’ ‘—made me lose my temper, and I—’ ‘—cut him with my dagger, and he is—’ ‘—damn near slit her throat!’ ‘—bleeding like a pig!’ ‘Whoa, whoa!’ stormed the captain, starting forward. Wood's, the carpenter in Wych Street. Here they remained till midnight when, calling for their reckoning and their steeds, they left the house.
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