A woman hard to read, who seemed to delight in keeping locked up behind that fascinating rigidity of feature the intense sensibility which had been revealed to him, her master, only in occasional and rare moments of enthusiasm. As soon as dinner was over she went into the kitchen and devoted herself to compiling a tray—not a tray merely of halfcooled dinner things, but a specially prepared “nice” tray, suitable for tempting any one. What was the alternative to going home? No alternative appeared in that darkness. “I hope,” said Miss Stanley, with dignity, and turned doorward with features in civil warfare. ToC Jonathan Wild, meanwhile, had quitted the house. Stay where you are, Mr. His arm fell to his side.
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