“Remorse?”

 

“Yes. You never would believe me when I told you she poisoned her husband. I’m

more than ever convinced of it now.”

 

“I don’t think you’re very logical,” I objected. “Surely if a woman committed a

crime like murder, she’d be sufficiently cold-blooded to enjoy the fruits of it

without any weak-minded sentimentality such as repentance.”

 

Caroline shook her head.

 

“There probably are women like that—but Mrs. Ferrars wasn’t one of them. She was

a mass of nerves. An overmastering impulse drove her on to get rid of her

husband because she was the sort of person who simply can’t endure suffering of

any kind, and there’s no doubt that the wife of a man like Ashley Ferrars must

have had to suffer a good deal——”

 

I nodded.

 

“And ever since she’s been haunted by what she did. I can’t help feeling sorry

for her.”

 

I don’t think Caroline ever felt sorry for Mrs. Ferrars whilst she was alive.

Now that she has gone where (presumably) Paris frocks can no longer be worn,