Explore "Aurora Floyd" by Mary Elizabeth Braddon on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
"We are on the verge of a precipice," Talbot Bulstrode thought, as he prepared for dinner in the comfortable dressing-room allotted to him at Mellish -- "we are on the verge of a precipice, and nothing but a bold grapple with the worst can save us. Any reticence, any attempt at keeping back suspicious facts, or hushing up awkward coincidences would be fatal to us. If John had made away with this pistol with which the deed was done, he would have inevitably fixed a most fearful suspicion upon his wife. Thank God I came here today! We must look matters straight in the face, and our first step must be to secure Aurora's help. So long as she is silent as to her share in the events of that day and night, there is a link missing in the chain, and we are all at sea. John must speak to her tonight; or perhaps it will be better for me to speak."
Mr. Bulstrode went down to the drawing-room, where he found his friend pacing up and down, solitary and wretched.