Every man in her life had betrayed her one way or another. . . She had eaten little or no tea, and her mid-day meal had been worse than nothing. The miserable woman staggered, uttered a deep groan, and fell senseless on the straw. Sir Rowland, who had continued absorbed in thought, with his eyes fixed upon the sloop, as she made her way slowly down the river, disembarked more leisurely. This at once thrilled her and worried her. This time she was indeed beaten. She laid her hand upon his arm. She continued to fan herself. Here was a hole as wide as a church-door.
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