‘And I am very glad you did this bad thing, because if not, who would take care of me?’ Martha shook her head, and Melusine spied wetness again in her eyes, although they met hers bravely. No sooner had they entered the room than Sharples, who waited to usher them in, hastily retreated, closed the door, and turning the key, laughed loudly at the success of his stratagem. At the eastern gate of the churchyard stood the carriage with the steps lowered. In the distance a barrel-organ was grinding out a pot pourri of popular airs. Even there a woman never gets a fair chance. He saw the flames burst from the windows, and perhaps in that maddening spectacle suffered torture equivalent to some of the crimes he had committed.
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