Now, she was the very reverse of all this. ‘I rather gathered as much,’ said Miss Froxfield, releasing her hands. And I was altogether disgusted when he kissed me. . He thought of her and himself, and no longer in that vein of incidental adventure in which he had begun. The first time, I overlooked the offence; but the second time, when I had planned to break open the house of his master, the fellow who visited you to-night,—Wood, the carpenter of Wych Street,—he betrayed me. His only warning was a gleam of silver in the faint spill of light from the house above. How dreary it all looks. 1 through 1. She herself, and one other there, recognized the interposition of something akin to tragedy. He had an air of having told her a deep, personal secret.
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