"Drink this," cried Jonathan, handing her the cup. Upon what this instinct was based she could not say; she was conscious only of its insistence. One can't help being jealous, you know, even of an unworthy object. She, however, had no idea of doing anything of the sort. ’ ‘But I am not stopping you from carrying on your business. “I am off to-night,” he said. The brain tires of resistance, and when it meets again and again, incoherently active, the same phrases, the same ideas that it has already slain, exposed and dissected and buried, it becomes less and less energetic to repeat the operation. Never had he corrected her with hand or whip, the ring in his voice had always been sufficient to cower her. She was sick of herself, of her life, of everything but him; and for him all her masked and hidden being was crying out. The room they were in was a sort of closet, with the door locked outside; but this was only a moment's obstacle to Jack, who with a chisel forced back the bolt. A fresh cool breeze blew in their faces.
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