Her patience was waning fast. ” “It is you,” he cried, “you, who are talking folly, when you speak of friendship between you and me. I’d need to be out of my senses. As to the picture, I'll keep it myself, though, if you do go I shall need no memorial of you. Not fit to be dust on your boots. Hastening along the passage he came to the sixth door. . I’d only have to do something about it, and that I can’t. Even in the daylight, it had a sombre and suspicious air, and seemed to slink back from the adjoining houses, as if afraid of their society. Her eyes filled as she thought of him, the image of his laughing countenance coming into her mind, to be swiftly followed by a vision of the blood running from his cut hand.
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