He was occupied in taking a white thread off his coat.
"Carroll's dead," she said, sharply.
"He is.

And your regret at his loss was no doubt deepened by the unhappy circumstances in which it took place.

He died in jail." "Well, and if he did--" "Died," continued Charles, suddenly fixing his keen glance upon her, "nearly a year after your so-called marriage with Mr.Dare." "It's a lie," she said, faintly; but she had turned very white.
"No, I _think_ not.

My information is on reliable authority.

A slight exertion of memory on your part will no doubt recall the date of your bereavement." "You can't prove it." "Excuse me.