“And now,” she said, splintering the surviving piece of coal into indignant flame-spurting fragments with one dexterous blow, “what am I to do? “I’m in a hole!—mess is a better word, expresses it better. You say that this gentleman was with you?” “I was,” Brendon answered, “most providentially. I am not of the canaille, but a bourgeois. “Let go!” she gasped at him, a blaze of anger. In one angle of the room stood a disused fire-place, with a rusty grate and broken chimney-piece; in the other there was a sort of box, contrived between the wall and the boards, that looked like an apology for a cupboard. " The Chinaman paused. As she crossed the square, almost within a stone’s throw of her lodgings, she came face to face with Courtlaw.
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