For a time she looked at no more apartments, and walked through gaunt and ill-cleaned streets, through the sordid under side of life, perplexed and troubled, ashamed of her previous obtuseness. Before her was a great Gothic portal. I wonder if some of them did—and it didn’t get reported. She closed her eyes and felt again an echo of the swamping warmth that had attacked her when his lips met hers. Cathy chimed. Ray did not pace, he just stood. The only circumstance which served to awaken a darker feeling in his breast was, that his implacable foe Jonathan Wild had survived the wound inflicted by Blueskin, and was slowly recovering.
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