He reappeared in street clothes, his cropped hair not even damp from the shower, fresh-faced and sweetsmelling. “John, of course I forgive you if it is what you need from me. The black, meantime, began to ply his hammer, and speedily unriveted the chains. ‘But do you think I can blame you for this, Marthe?’ ‘I blame myself. ” He rowed a stroke and watched the swirl of water from his oar broaden and die away. Light flooded the place. There are men in the Lowndean who laugh at him—simply laugh at him. " "No doubt," rejoined Wild, with a sneer; "but don't let all the world know it. I didn't mean it.
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