"
Mr. Woodstock nodded his head, and walked off by himself.
Julian Casti was ill. With difficulty he had dragged himself to the
court, and his sufferings as he sat there were horribly evident on
his white face. Waymark met him just as Mr. Woodstock walked off;
and the two went home together by omnibus, not speaking on the way.
"She will be convicted," was Julian's first utterance, when he had
sat for a few minutes in Waymark's room, whilst Waymark himself
paced up and down. The latter turned, and saw that tears were. on
his friends hollow cheeks.
"Did you sleep better last night?" he asked.
"Good God, no! I never closed my eyes. That's the third night
without rest. Waymark, get me an opiate of some kind, or I shall
kill myself; and let me sleep here."
"What will your wife say?"
"What do I care what she says!" cried Julian, with sudden
excitement, his muscles quivering, and his cheeks flaming all at
once. "Don't use that word 'wife,' it is profanation; I can't bear
it! If I see her to-night, I can't answer for what I may do. Curse
her to all eternity!"
He sank beck in exhaustion.
"Julian," said Waymark, using his friend's first name by exception,
"if this goes on, you will be ill.
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