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The chapel was crowded to excess. She yielded it without protest, as though unconsciously. “But you must forgive me, John. The ink, contained in a grimy bottle unearthed in the outhouse, was old, and made blotches as soon as it touched the paper. What brings you here?” “I’m here to see my uncle. It’s not a bit of good pretending there’s any Higher Truth or wonderful principle in this business. She’s as stubborn as the proverbial mule, and—’ with a sigh that felt wrenched out of him ‘—utterly captivating. But at this point he was still subservient, still outwardly humble, in spite of the blackhearted villainy that was even then burgeoning in his breast.

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