"To him I owe everything," continued the widow, "life itself—nay, more than life,—for without his assistance I should have perished, body and soul. A young lad—Roding took him for a footman, or a groom by the neat black garb—was halted some paces away from Valade, his hat in his hand as he made pretence of fanning himself. And it is your own fault that your husband dallies with me. His hair flew out from the sides of his head like black bats from a belfry, it was unruly and long. And if I don’t, I go mad.
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