“We may just as well have our talk afterwards,” she said, “and I need not keep poor Mr. She wanted to cry out upon herself for the uttermost fool in existence. “We are, or rather we were, so much alike then that the portrait of either of us would have done for the other. But kill me rather than commit this outrage. Her parents have more money than God. Before you go I'll give you a list of books to read. Why, that boy could hide for thirty years—without the girl. I deemed it more prudent to send him to the Dark House than to bring him here, in case of any search after him by his adoptive father—the carpenter Wood.
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