"Yes. But think now. Mightn't there be some mistake?"

"Pooh! how could there be any mistake?"

"Didn't you see any change in her?"

"No, only that she looked much more quiet than she used to. Not so
active, you know. In her best days she was always excitable, and a
little demonstrative; but now she seems to have sobered down, and is
as quiet and well-bred as any of the others."

"Was there not any change in her at all?"

"Not so much as I would have supposed; certainly not so much as there
is in me. But then I've been knocking about all over the world, and
she's been living a life of peace and calm, with the sweet
consciousness of having triumphed over a hated husband, and possessing
a handsome competency. Now she mingles in the best society. She
associates with lords and ladies. She enjoys life in England, while I
am an exile. No doubt she passes for a fine young widow. No doubt,
too, she has lots of admirers. They aspire to her hand. They write
poetry to her. They make love to her. Confound her!"

Dacres's voice grew more and more agitated and excited as he spoke,
and at length his tirade against his wife ended in something that was
almost a roar.

Hawbury said nothing, but listened, with his face full of sympathy. At
last his pent-up feeling found expression in his favorite exclamation,
"By Jove!"