She went to her room and changed the loose morning gown in which she had lunched for a dark walking dress. Had he been sick in the mind when he had done this damnable thing? It did not seem possible, for he could recall clearly all he had said and done; there were no blank spaces to give him one straw of excuse. This was number 13, Montague Street, familiarly spoken of in the neighbourhood as “White’s. They are born idiots, incurably insane. I was helpless. Taking up a couple of large stones which lay near, Jack tried to beat the round basils of the fetters into an oval form, so as to enable him to slip his heels through them. .
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