Next to the executioner stood his wife—the former Mrs. " Something reached down into his heart and twisted it. " "Willingly. You were with your mother, the two of you huddled like thieves, laughing at the silly women who tried to shield themselves from rain by cowering under empty baskets and shawls. By this time, the door was unlocked, and drawing his sword, Quilt entered the cell. The haste to send her upon her way now had but one interpretation—the recognition of his own immediate danger, the fear that if this tender association continued, he would end in offering her a calamity quite as impossible as that which had happened—the love of a man who was in all probability older than her father! The hurt was no less intensive because it was so ridiculous.
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