"You're not out yet, you young hound," rejoined Quilt, striving ineffectually to burst open the door. I was his wife. Her eyes threatened to leak tears, she blinked. Then Capes’ footsteps approached. He had buckled on his hanger, and had two brace of pistols in his belt, as well as others in this holsters. Even Capes had been for her merely an excitant to passionate love—a mere idol at whose feet one could enjoy imaginative wallowings. “You poor thing. In the midst of the holy place, which he had formerly profaned, lay the body of his unfortunate mother, and he could not help looking upon her untimely end as the retributive vengeance of Heaven for the crime he had committed.
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