" 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. She tried to imagine herself “getting something,” to project herself as sitting down at a desk and writing, or as returning after her work to some pleasantly equipped and free and independent flat. The latter looked very pale, either from the effect of his wound, which was not yet entirely healed, or from suppressed emotion,—partly, perhaps, from both causes,—and wore his left arm in a sling. Well, after all, he seemed to be turning the subject. A town called Foster. " "I don't care if he is," rejoined Thames, boldly. Ice had begun to form in the shallows. I am the richest man in England.
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