Opposite the gallows was an open gallery, or scaffolding, like the stand at a racecourse, which, on state occasions, was crowded with spectators. It was horrible, but what could she do? She meant to live her own life, and he meant, with contempt and insults, to prevent her. "To-morrow it will be mine. But I don’t suppose you can understand. The water was cold but she waded deeper. If only she had thought to plunge the scissors into her own heart! Hoddy … to return and find her either gone or dead! But even as the Wastrel's arms gathered her, there came the sound of hurrying steps on the veranda. I’m not Gerald, remember.
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