’ There was a silence. Her thin fingers were armed with nails as long as the talons of a bird. By degrees, his fears vanished, and hearing nothing, he grew calmer. It was fastened inside. She went to her room and changed the loose morning gown in which she had lunched for a dark walking dress. But not finding it, he had again recourse to the bludgeon, and began beating the hand fixed on the upper rail, until, by smashing the fingers, he forced it to relinquish its hold. Accordingly, when she arrived at the Shovels, with which, as an old haunt in her bygone days of wretchedness she was well acquainted, instead of entering the principal apartment, which she saw at a glance was crowded with company of both sexes, she turned into a small room on the left of the bar, and, as an excuse for so doing, called for something to drink. Their momentary absence seemed to have worked wonders; for now the most perfect understanding appeared to subsist between them. “I have hurt my father,” she said; “I have hurt my aunt.
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