in the last hypnotic fit, and hypnotic is the fashionable word for it, I know, but I call it madness. And his heart isn't sound, you know. He inherits disease in that direction. His father died of aneurism of the heart. Some day he will have a fashionable fit too strong for him, and there will be an end."
"The best thing that could happen for both of them," said Jacynth deliberately. He had been terribly upset by Castleton's revelation, and though hardly permitting himself to believe in it, still felt a wild, mad joy in the thought that she—she, the only woman the whole wide world contained for him—might be innocent of bloodshed after all. "See here," said he vehemently, "if this thing be true, if she saw him commit that crime—for crime it was— do you think they could ever live happily together in the future? Why, think, man, would she not see the color of blood upon his hands, would she fail to rank him among murderers? And he——"
"Why, he knows nothing."
"True; and therein lies the real tragedy. Knowing nothing, he thinks of her as a murderess. There it lies, you see, in a nutshell. He thinks her, she thinks him guilty of a ghastly crime, and you madly believe they could live together happily."
"It need not go on like that; she might tell him the truth."
"She? Never!"
