Even the love of a mother does not sway him. "To-night it is their turn," said Jonathan, binding up his wounded fingers with a handkerchief. "I will live," cried Blueskin, with a look of the deadliest hatred at Wild, "to be revenged on you. She looked at me as though I were some unclean thing, as though my soul were weighted with every sin in the calendar. Supper was over. Spurling, you're a witness to the bet. She was aware of the body of the court, of clerks seated at a black table littered with papers, of policemen standing about stiffly with expressions of conscious integrity, and a murmuring background of the heads and shoulders of spectators close behind her.
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