"Sir Rowland is murdered!" cried Jack, as soon as he could find a tongue. "It's all over," groaned Wood, "and perhaps it's as well her senses are gone. “Where would you like to go? Are you hungry?” “No. Oh! I'm in such a fluster!" Upon which, she snatched up her fan, cast a look into the glass, smoothed down her scarf, threw a soft expression into her features, and led the way into the next room, whither she was followed by her daughter and Thames Darrell. She had fled back to Florence quite intent on slitting the new bride’s throat.
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