She was paralyzed, and could not find her tongue.
"Why, what is the matter now ?" said the other, sharply.
"Are you married to Reginald Falcon ?" "Of course I am.

Look at my wedding-ring." "Then I am not wanted here," faltered Phoebe, ready to sink on the floor.
"Certainly not, if you are one of the bygones," said the woman, coarsely; and Phoebe Dale waited to hear no more, but found her way, Heaven knows how, into the street, and there leaned, half-fainting, on a rail, till a policeman came, and told her she had been drinking, and suggested a cool cell as the best cure.
"Not drink; only a breaking heart," said she, in her low, mellow voice that few could resist.
He got her a glass of water, drove away the boys that congregated directly, and she left the street.

But she soon came back again, and waited about for Reginald Falcon.
It was night when he appeared.

She seized him by the breast, and taxed him with his villany.
What with her iron grasp, pale face, and flashing eyes, he lost his cool impudence, and blurted out excuses.

It was an old and unfortunate connection; he would give the world to dissolve it, if he could do it like a gentleman.
Phoebe told him to please himself: he must part with one or the other.
"Don't talk nonsense," said this man of brass; "I'll un-Falcon her on the spot." "Very well," said Phoebe.