"It is not too late to repair the wrong I have done my nephew," cried Trenchard. His wife's portrait had been removed from the walls, and the place it had occupied was only to be known by the cord by which it had been suspended. His fatigue was tacitly understood within the family; it was a phenomenon which everyone acknowledged as related to the trades. But when she spoke her lips quivered, and they came. No breakfast, he’s had no dinner, hardly a mouthful of soup— since yesterday at tea. . " "But what, in God's name, possessed you? You have already wrecked your own life and now you've wrecked hers.
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