“My dear, I’m thankful to say nobody did, but he used to come regularly to our house when he was in town, and my stupid old father used to encourage him. Such an escape I never had. Fancy being married to a murderer. Ugh!”
“There’s no need to fancy anything of the sort. You couldn’t have married him till he asked you.”
“But, dear, if he had, I should have accepted him. You know, he is so handsome. And he is awfully rich. My father wouldn’t have heard of my refusing him. Certainly, he’s not of our religion, but then we’re not very orthodox. I’m afraid I should have accepted him: I’m sure I should. And then, think of poor Isaac. I really was fond of him. I know it now; but he was so slow in making money—I couldn’t waste all my life in waiting.”
“You must feel his death dreadfully,” said Rose.
“But it doesn’t comfort me very much, when my friends go to see his murderer.”
“I haven’t been to see a murderer.”
“Good gracious! If that awful Scarlett didn’t murder him, who did?”
“I haven’t the least idea, but I feel sure there’s been a mistake on the part of the police.”
“There’s no mistake: they found the bodies yesterday in the bush.”
As Rachel spoke, the two girls saw a strange procession coming down the street.