That night a grave was dug in Willesden churchyard, next to that in which Mrs. ‘I ain’t done nothing wrong, I swear it. She could not go to him when it was apparent that he needed her beyond all other instances! What had caused this agony did not matter—then. Her father, her own father! She remembered now a verse from the Psalms her father had always been quoting; but now she recited it with perfect understanding. “Further than that, I am amazed that you should dare to allude to those few moments, to that single moment of folly. "That's it!"—eagerly.
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