The vicar's wife was fond of strong words; this was the strongest one she knew of, so she used it.
"Well, but, my dear, consider the circumstances."
"No circumstances can excuse a murder, Mr. Dodd. I hope he won't come here; don't let him dare to offer me his blood-stained hand; his mere presence would be enough to contaminate the whole village. Will they hang him?" she asked with interest.
"Oh, Mrs. Dodd," said the brewer's daughter, clasping her hands, for the thought that she herself had witnessed the marriage of this interesting criminal thrilled her very soul.
"Of course she will leave him at once," continued the vicar's wife; "were the case my own," she said, "I should not hesitate for an instant."
A slight smile rippled across the broad countenance of the vicar; perhaps it passed through his mind that were he not a clergyman there might yet be a means of escape for him.
"It is of men such as this," cried the indignant vicar's wife, "that Shakespeare speaks. Yes," she said clenching her fingers, "every honest hand should hold a whip to lash the rascal naked through the world."
"It would be a highly indecent spectacle, my dear," said the vicar with a chuckle.
"I am speaking figuratively, Mr. Dodd."
"Of course, my dear, of course. In the meanwhile old Warrender is horribly angry, as well he may be."