Towards this box Sharples directed his steps, and, unlocking a hatch in the door, disclosed a recess scarcely as large, and certainly not as clean, as a dog-kennel. “I do not suppose he will be home till late. On that night,—that fatal night,—Winifred crushed all the hopes that were rising in my heart. Perhaps she might never come back to that breakfast-room again. The latter walked carelessly towards the hatch, and leaning his back against the place whence the spike had been removed, so as completely to hide it, continued smoking his pipe as coolly as if nothing had happened. She was standing before a window, against the background of the rain-burdened April sky. "You two … both of you! But for you I couldn't have done it.
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