Brazenly he went into public places with women of dishonour, and I hid my face in shame.
"His father died, and for a time Mortimer FitzHugh became one of the talked-about spendthrifts of London.

Swiftly he gambled and dissipated himself into comparative poverty.

And now, learning that I would not get a divorce, he began to regard me as a slave in chains.

I remember, one time, that he succeeded in laying his hands on me, and they were like the touch of things that were slimy and poisonous.

He laughed at my revulsion.