“What’s funny? I thought this was murder.” He smiled, though, and put an arm around me. “I was just thinking,” I said, still snorting a bit, “if your definition of a good husband is one with money and position who doesn’t beat his wife … what does that make you?” “Oh,” he said. He grinned. “Well, Sassenach, I never said I was a good husband. Neither did you. ‘Sadist,’ I think ye called me, and a few other things that I wouldna repeat for the sake of decency. But not a good husband.” “Good. Then I won’t feel obliged to poison you with cyanide.”
