'
Arthur could hardly bear the terror that was in Margaret's eyes. He did
not know what to say to her. In a little while she began to speak again,
in a low voice and rapidly, as though to herself, and she wrung her
hands.
'Oh, you don't know what I've endured! He used to spend long periods away
from me, and I remained alone at Skene from morning till night, alone
with my abject fear. Sometimes, it seemed that he was seized with a
devouring lust for the gutter, and he would go to Liverpool or Manchester
and throw himself among the very dregs of the people. He used to pass
long days, drinking in filthy pot-houses. While the bout lasted, nothing
was too depraved for him. He loved the company of all that was criminal
and low. He used to smoke opium in foetid dens--oh, you have no
conception of his passion to degrade himself--and at last he would come
back, dirty, with torn clothes, begrimed, sodden still with his long
debauch; and his mouth was hot with the kisses of the vile women of the
docks. Oh, he's so cruel when the fit takes him that I think he has a
fiendish pleasure in the sight of suffering!'
It was more than Arthur could stand.
Pages:
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278