Mrs Sindlesham raised her brows. " "I see through your design, Jack," returned the carpenter, gravely; "but I don't like under-hand work. She reflected before answering. She told her husband that she wished her nothing more than her own death. Since morning he had become fanatical; the atoms of common sense no longer functioned in the accustomed groove. The windows were grated, the doors barred; each room had the name as well as the appearance of a cell; and the very porter who stood at the gate, habited like a jailer, with his huge bunch of keys at his girdle, his forbidding countenance and surly demeanour seemed to be borrowed from Newgate. The satisfaction of cheating Death again. Father— dead. Her heart in her mouth, she heard his foot scrape on the floorboard and knew from his expression that Gosse had heard it too. Sir John looked about him, and somehow the laugh died away.
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