She no more realizes what she has done than a child of eight. She reflected upon that with a thrill of terror that was also, somehow, in some faint remote way, gleeful. She saw it, and checked without thinking. ‘But do you think I can blame you for this, Marthe?’ ‘I blame myself. The houses on Snow Hill were thronged, like those in Old Bailey. . Love … to take her in his arms and to comfort her: and then to add to her cup of bitterness the knowledge that her husband was a thief! For himself he did not care; God could continue to grind and pulverize him; but to add another grain to the evil he had already wrought upon Ruth was unthinkable. A struggle of the most terrific kind now ensued. They don’t know who did it, actually. ’ ‘So that was it.
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