They said no more for a moment, and each was now acutely aware of the
other. They heard his
footsteps descending the stone staircase, growing fainter and fainter. Mr. She seized the
key, and he grasped her hand and squeezed it roughly and painfully between the
handle and the ward as she tried to turn it. "
"Decidedly so," replied Edgeworth Bess; "and I'll take this opportunity, while
Jack's back is turned,—for he's grown so strangely particular,—of easing him of
his snuff-box. “Well, you have thought it over?” he said, sitting down beside her. But they did what they could for her. We can’t afford to
turn our women, our Madonnas, our Saint Catherines, our Mona Lisas, our
goddesses and angels and fairy princesses, into a sort of man.
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