She held it down with the poker, looking nervously over her shoulder. What would happen when next morning she returned to Morningside Park? He couldn’t turn her out of doors. Jackson, mean time, produced a pocket-book; and, after deliberately sharpening the point of a pencil, began to write on a blank leaf. Superstition—you knock into it whichever way you turn. She spent many days in the castle alone as he busied himself with his alchemy, or traveled to Florence to visit his remaining political connections. She felt she was bound in honor to tell the whole affair to Manning sooner or later. For a time her efforts to achieve a comprehensive concentration were dispersed by the passage of the village street of Caddington, the passing of a goggled car-load of motorists, and the struggles of a stable lad mounted on one recalcitrant horse and leading another. She exited solemnly, retrieving and carrying Michelle’s unconscious figure into the forest like a reluctant bridegroom. There was no one at all in this room, but through the half-open door of one of the small apartments that gave upon it she had a glimpse of two very young girls sitting at a littered table and writing briskly.
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