grievance had she against this unhappy girl? None whatever. Self it
was therefore that slyly thanked her for an unspeakable blessing:
she had brought to an end not only the life of her husband but the
false position she herself had been obliged to maintain through a
mistaken sense of duty and self-respect. And who was to say, outside
the law, that this frail girl had not just cause to slay?

A great relaxation came over Sara Wrandall. It was as if every
nerve, every muscle in her body had reached the snapping point
and suddenly had given way. For a moment her hands were weak and
powerless; her head fell forward. In an instant she conquered,--but
only partially,--the strange feeling of lassitude. Then she realised
how tired she was, how fiercely the strain had told on her body
and brain, how much she had really suffered.

Her blurred eyes turned once more for a look at the girl, who
sat there, just as she had been sitting for miles, her white face
standing out with almost unnatural clearness, and as rigid as that
of the sphinx.

The girl spoke. "Do they hang women in this country?"

Mrs. Wrandall started. "In some of the States," she replied, and
was unable to account for the swift impulse to evade.

"But in this State?" persisted the other, almost without a movement
of the lips.

"They send them to the electric chair--sometimes," said Mrs.
Wrandall.