“Forgive me,” he said. “I never planned it—And now I have begun—” She felt acutely that he was entitled to explanations, and as acutely that explanations were impossible that night. Prison was beastly. He never appears to so little advantage as when speaking of him. “I think we’ve exhausted this discussion,” she said. Alarmed by these prognostications of a storm, and feeling too much exhausted from his late severe treatment to proceed further on foot, Wood endeavoured to find a tavern where he might warm and otherwise refresh himself. She was always breaking rules, whispering asides, intimating signals. We got your message, but you never stay out this late. One always dreamed of this and never believed it. There’s hardly a night she doesn’t sneak out of the house.
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