I'm not dangerous." And he uttered a little sad laugh.
She echoed it--faintly, bitterly.
"It was--habit." "Rather odd habit," said Soames as bitterly.

"Shut the window!" She shut it and sat down again.

She had developed power, this woman--this--wife of his! He felt it issuing from her as she sat there, in a sort of armour.

And almost unconsciously he rose and moved nearer; he wanted to see the expression on her face.

Her eyes met his unflinching.