Sir John stood upon the threshold. Stanley, with an imperious gesture, “to come in here. ‘Your wife?’ ‘My wife,’ he repeated, rising also, his smile mocking her. Kneebone's house, the young man hastened to a hotel in the neighbourhood of Covent Garden, where, having procured a horse, he shaped his course towards the west end of the town. She glanced into her companion’s face, and she saw there strange things. “I have no wish,” he said, “to altogether ignore the fact that you are my wife’s sister, and have therefore a certain claim upon me. Both of them.
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