I'll tell him that you're here." "He knows," said Marcella, briefly.

"Now are you ready ?" He signed assent, and Marcella went back to the wife.
"Mrs.Hurd," she said, kneeling on the ground beside her, "they're going." The wife sprang up with a cry and ran into the kitchen, where Hurd was already on his feet between Jenkins and another policeman, who were to convey him to the gaol at Widrington.

But when she came face to face with her husband something--perhaps the nervous appeal in his strained eyes--checked her, and she controlled herself piteously.

She did not even attempt to kiss him.

With her eyes on the ground, she put her hand on his arm.