Her two sticks were bare and brown, her snugged canvas drab, her brasses dull, her anchor mottled with rust. It was the bitterest moment of her life. A pane of glass was shivered by each stone. “Or I wouldn’t have said anything about it. ” They were in the elder Widgett girl’s bedroom; Hetty was laid up, she said, with a sprained ankle, and a miscellaneous party was gossiping away her tedium. “Let us go to that little place at the back of the Palace. " As he spoke, the door of the round-house was opened, and a stout man, with a lantern in his hand, presented himself at the threshold.
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