He stood up, apparently intending to put an arm about her, but she stepped back from him quickly. Purney, the ordinary, who had latterly conceived a great regard for Jack, addressed him in a discourse, which, while it tended to keep alive his feelings of penitence, was calculated to afford him much consolation. He swore that I was his wife, and—I shot him, Nigel, as his arms were closing around me. ‘I know that, miss. 276 He opened the box. And that would spoil it. I have always understood that men avoid like the plague a woman with a sense of humour.
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