Wood, however, made known his presence to the individual by laying his hand upon his shoulder. She stared at him and thought the words, “My husband, my husband. . You want industry—you want steadiness. “And of course you are my niece just as Annabel is, although I am sorry to learn that your conduct has been much less discreet than hers. Of course, he had no idea who I was. On this side was a razor with which a son had murdered his father; the blade notched, the haft crusted with blood: on that, a bar of iron, bent, and partly broken, with which a husband had beaten out his wife's brains. After all, it is not long since that a Catholic nun in this country would have had to remain in hiding.
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