How could she tell him of the evil that drew her and drew her, as a needle to the magnet?—the fascinating evil that even now, escaped as it was, went on distilling its poison in her mind? "Yes, yes!" said the doctor. The fact that it was her trusted friend making illicit love to her remained, in spite of all her effort, an insignificant thing in her mind. This last operation was so fatiguing, that for a short time he was obliged to pause to recover the use of his fingers. So, one day, because God was wroth, her mother ran away with a blackguard, and died in the gutter, miserably.
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