This laugh and his looks alarmed her. Ascending the stairs, and conducting them along a sombre gallery, in which Trenchard noticed that every door was painted black, and numbered, he stopped at the entrance of a chamber; and, selecting a key from the bunch at his girdle, unlocked it. Luck. He was conscious of a peculiar pleasure in sitting there and thinking of those few hours which already were becoming to assume a definite importance in his mind—a place curiously apart from those dry-as-dust images which had become the gods of his prosaic life. Had he been trying to get her attention before that day, or did he simply want his silly pencil returned? \"I'm John. He was beginning to think about her inordinately. “I meant to say good-bye to you to-night.
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