"Now stand before me, Poll. She dropped the locket into its sweet hiding place. “I don’t care a rap for remembering. She had thought—What had she thought? That this dependence of women was but an illusion which needed only to be denied to vanish. It was not in evidence here, not a sign of it. All the events of the previous day rushed to his recollection; and though he had been unintentionally the cause of his mother's death, he reproached himself as severely as if he had been her actual murderer. He’s the handle of life for you. His father was one of my old customers, and I am happy to find his son treading in his steps. His eyes were fixed upon her face, but he opened his lips twice before he spoke. “Oh, Ann Veronica!” he cried, “I cannot let you go like this! You don’t understand. ‘Why do you stand there? Take him up, and bring him out at once. He was a stranger. Leaving the library by the same door she had first used to enter it earlier that day, she crossed the two little antechambers and moved on through the rooms. Tum, tum, tirray, tum, tum, tum, te-tum—that thing of Mendelssohn’s! If making one human being absolutely happy is any satisfaction to you—” He held out his hands, and she also stood up. Wood, sharply.
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