He fancied that when they had had time to reflect, they would regret it still more. A wooden balcony in one of the adjoining houses was thronged with ladies, all of whom appeared to take a lively interest in the scene, and to be full of commiseration for the criminal, not, perhaps, unmixed with admiration of his appearance. “Sebastianus? Where did my husband go?” He smiled at her gently, patronizingly, as he prevented her from movement or escape. What news. She felt her forehead repeatedly break out in a light sweat. The doorbell tinkled and Michelle grabbed her purse and rushed down the creaky wooden stairs.
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