a stupid woman.
Stupidity is the key-note to her character--and it furnishes the
explanation of half her wrong-doing."

This reflection was comforting, but he still considered her to be a
source of terrible danger to him. For the moment at least, all his
resentment about her past unchasteness and her recent escapade was
entirely obliterated; it was a closed chapter; he did not seem to care
two pence about it--that is, he did not feel any torment of jealousy.
The offense was expiated. But he must not on any account let her see
this--no, because it might lead her, stupid as she was, to trace the
reason. He knew himself that if Mr. Barradine had died otherwise than
by his blows, he would have felt quite differently toward Mavis. He
would have felt then "The swine has escaped me. We are not quits. That
dirty turn is not paid for." He would have continued to smart under
the affront to his pride as a man, and association with Mavis would
have still been impossible.

Logically, then, he must act out these other feelings; Mavis must see
him as he would have been under those conditions. But it made it all
so difficult--two parts to render adequately instead of one. In the
monstrous egotism produced by his fear, he thought it uncommonly rough
luck that the wife who ought to have been dutifully assisting him
should thus add to his cares and worries. Sometimes he had to struggle
against insane longings to take her into his confidence, and compel
her to do her fair share of the job--to say, slap out, "It's you, my
lady, who've landed me in this tight place; so the least you can do is
to help pull me into open country."

Moreover, as the days and nights passed, instincts that were more
human and natural made him crave for re-union. He yearned to be
friends with her again. He felt that if he could safely make it up,
cuddle her as he used to do, hold her hands and arms when he went to
sleep, he would derive fortitude and support against his fear, even
if he obtained no aid from her in dodging the law.

He thought during the inquest that the fear had reached its climax.
Nothing that could come in the future would be as bad as this. Yet all
the time he was telling himself, "There is no cause for the fear. It
is quite baseless. All is going as nice as nice."

Indeed, if he had conducted the proceedings himself, he could not have
wished to arrange anything differently. The whole affair was more like
a civilian funeral service--a rite