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“Nothing can cheer me,” he said, “except champagne. “Don’t you know, child, that this is torture for me? What in God’s name more can you have to tell me?” Her face had become almost like a marble image. “I hope you realize,” he went on, in a lower and less assured tone, “that I am in earnest—very much in earnest. “What do you mean?” she asked. You have never seen the child within your arms perishing from hunger, and no relief to be obtained. And for twelve years he has been so; until his long security, well-nigh obliterating remembrance of the deed, has bred almost a sense of innocence within his breast. The room behind was another small antechamber, presumably linking the back rooms. Spurlock to keep to the bungalow until the rogue goes back to Copeley's.
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