” 243 She felt a mixture of embarrassment, humiliation, and pride well up in her cheeks, flushing them. She would never again be lonely. The London backgrounds, in Bloomsbury and Marylebone, against which these people went to and fro, took on, by reason of their gray facades, their implacably respectable windows and window-blinds, their reiterated unmeaning iron railings, a stronger and stronger suggestion of the flavor of her father at his most obdurate phase, and of all that she felt herself fighting against. "But what, may I ask, arouses the thought?" The doctor was in high good humour. "He just asked for his coat, which he wanted under his pillow. While they were thus occupied, a maid-servant entered the room, and stated that a person was without who had a packet for Captain Darrell, which must be delivered into his own hands. Her eyes glistened in the darkness—for light was only admitted through a small grated window—like flames, and, as she fixed them on him, their glances seemed to penetrate his very soul. .
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