Returning to Mrs Sindlesham’s chair, he held up the miniature so the face depicted there was turned towards the old lady. Wood was not particularly fortunate in his own matrimonial connections. On this side was a razor with which a son had murdered his father; the blade notched, the haft crusted with blood: on that, a bar of iron, bent, and partly broken, with which a husband had beaten out his wife's brains. “I remember when you walked me home. John was acutely focused upon her now, just as she had wanted him to be. Somebody to depend upon her; somebody to have need of her, if only for a little while. Everywhere there are limitations.
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