I said, "Eustace, look at me." He slowly lifted his eyes to my face--eyes cold and clear and tearless--looking at me in steady resignation, in immovable despair.

In the utter wretchedness of that moment, I was like him; I was as quiet and as cold as my husband.

He chilled, he froze me.
"Is it possible," I said, "that you doubt my belief in your innocence ?" He left the question unanswered.

He sighed bitterly to himself.

"Poor woman!" he said, as a stranger might have said, pitying me.