She would then hear his feet pounding up the steps and he would burst into whatever room she was sitting in and say, “There she is! My wife! Hiding her beauty from the world!” He would then run to her, grab her book or embroidery and unceremoniously toss them to the floor. “You’re not a virgin, are you?” It was as much an accusation as a question. “I think that I shall be the most unpopular man in London. Their small talk continued. Wood, who was standing at the edge of a raised platform, anxiously waving his hand to him. “You must come home to him at once,” said Miss Stanley. When first you left your home you had no idea that I was the hidden impulse.
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