But I can give it its name now. The glass in the windows was broken—the roof unthatched—the walls dilapidated. But that other world, in spite of her resolute exclusion of it, was always looking round corners and peeping through chinks and crannies, and rustling and raiding into the order in which she chose to live, shining out of pictures at her, echoing in lyrics and music; it invaded her dreams, it wrote up broken and enigmatical sentences upon the passage walls of her mind. “I haven’t a scrap—of this sort of aversion. " Prudence felt the hands stiffen oddly; and again the thought came to her that perhaps this poor child's father had once been, perhaps still was, in the same category as this Taber. I dare say anything seemed better to her than the nun’s habit she had been obliged to use. F. “Now isn’t this nice!” that lady exclaimed. Her glasses moved quickly as her glance travelled from face to face. “Quite alone, sir. In any case, there was no doing anything on a Sunday and Brewis Charvill, his main quarry, had gone out of town unexpectedly. Passing at a glance over the whole of the intervening period; leaving in the words of the poet, —The growth untried Of that wide gap— we shall resume our narrative at the beginning of June, 1715. . ’ ‘She once more,’ came in disgust from the girl on the bed.
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