I am sure. No man knew whence she had come nor why. On the groundfloor the shutters were closed, or, to speak more correctly, altogether nailed up, and presented a very singular appearance, being patched all over with the soles of old shoes, rusty hobnails, and bits of iron hoops, the ingenious device of the former occupant of the apartment, Paul Groves, the cobbler, to whom we have before alluded. Only it was with a further and most unbelieving shrug of the shoulders that he resumed his seat. ’ She had given nothing away. Dim souls flitted about her, not only speaking but it would seem even thinking in undertones.
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