“You are too good for me,” she said in a low voice. Wood, regarding her husband with a glance of vindictive triumph. Again the chalky pallor spread even to her lips, her eyes became lit with the old terror. We have to get them to let us in for the profits of their business, and in return we ask them to—dinner. All the same, I wish I had that fellow by the throat! Just the virile, unregenerate man in me wishes that. But, suppose I've no place to lock 'em up in, how then?" Quilt looked a little perplexed. She did her best to do this.
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