‘You were supposed to be nursing him,’ Martha grumbled, ‘and helping him convalesce. Spurling: "I blush for you, Sir! To call yourself a man, and interfere with the natural course of affection! Have you no feeling for the situation of those poor disconsolate creatures, about to be bereaved of all they hold dear? Is it nothing to part with a husband to the gallows? I've lost four in the same way, and know what it is. A ragged gray moustache drooped from the corners of his mouth and a ragged wisp of whisker hung from his chin.
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