When they were going home she asked her mother why she and Gwen and Alice had cried. “Who do you think cares for your children as you dally with my husband, Clotilde?” Lucy asked. “You shall drive home with me in a hansom, if you will. . We are alone and we can say and do what we please. The truth at once flashed across his mind. Something in his smile, in the cynical suggestiveness of his deferential tone, maddened her. Never mind. Sebastian was gone and another doctor came to bleed her, to rid her of the black humors that were causing the plague. But how long would she last, withering away to a desiccated pile of skin and bone? Round and round she would go. Jack Sheppard is to me what Thames Darrell is to you—an object of hatred. If Jack Sheppard could behold his mother in this state, he'd have a lesson he'd never forget—ay, and a severer one than even the hangman could read him. Ah, these English! They travelled all over, up and down the world, not to acquire information but rather to leave the impress of their superiority as a race.
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