The performance over, he relaxed and closed his eyes. “No. She had time in the afternoons to do crewelwork and embroidery, no longer occupied by the constant spinning of wool. He just wants to get laid. Don’t ask me how. If you'd read your husband's dying speech, you'd know that he laid his death at Jonathan's door,—and with reason too, as I can testify. Either you have had to love people or hate them—which is a sort of love, too, in its way—to get anything out of them. Jack was a comical scoundrel, and made a little too free with his grace's best burgundy, as well as his grace's favourite housekeeper.
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