He saw the girl, and sprang up in bed. The sea was no longer rolling brass; it was bluer than anything he had ever seen. 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. Forgetting the dark thoughts of his last brush with the girl, he dropped the dagger back in his pocket, quickened his pace, and went back into the house to look for his hostess. When the disillusion comes, when the fairy story ends, if she is blessed with children, she doesn't mind.
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