“That’s all. The thought of their faces, and particularly of her aunt’s, as it would meet the fact— disconcerted, unfriendly, condemning, pained—occurred to her again and again. ” Annabel laughed hardly. Her first impulse was to fly to the window; and she was about to pass through it, at the risk of sharing the fate of the unfortunate lady, when her arm was grasped by some one in the act of ascending the ladder from without. Mutual concessions!—and then to turn it around so that it suggested that an act of kindness might be interpreted as moral obloquy! Walls; queer, invisible walls that receded whenever she reached out, but that still remained between her and what she sought. ‘I am not a murderer.
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