Finally, at the exit into Regent’s Park, they ran against Miss Klegg. "Where is the boy?" demanded Sir Rowland. “Can’t you believe me? I am Meysey Hill. All the same, I don’t admit it. I swore I would bring your husband to the gallows,—would plunge you in such want, such distress, that you should have no alternative but the last frightful resource of misery,—and I also swore, that if you had a son he should share the same fate as his father. After the first violent outbreak of grief had in some degree subsided, Thames addressed him. It seemed as if each time her imagination reached out investingly, an invisible lash beat it back.
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