The person, shortly afterwards ushered into the room, seemed by the imperfect light,—for the evening was advancing, and the chamber darkened by heavy drapery,—to be a middle-sized middle-aged man, of rather vulgar appearance, but with a very shrewd aspect. "I am so excessively fond of snuff. Suddenly he understood what had happened. “You blithering idiot!” he exclaimed. Oh, the beautiful books! Romance, adventure, love stories! She gathered up the books in her arms and cuddled them, as a mother might have cuddled a child. ’ ‘I could have done so at the first and saved you the pain,’ she told him merrily. I should lose every scrap of independence—even my self-respect. You must live for me.
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