My mother has been ill.

They wanted to come to see me.

You knew and you kept it from me.
You told my father lies--lies--hideous lies! You said I was away in Scotland--enjoying myself--when I was here and dying with homesickness.
You made them think I did not care for them--or for New York! You have killed me! Why did you do such a wicked thing! He looked at her with glaring eyes.

If a man born a gentleman is ever in the mood to kick his wife to death, as costermongers do, he was in that mood.

He had lost control over himself as completely as she had, and while she was only a desperate, hysteric girl, he was a violent man.
"I did it because I did not mean to have them here," he said.