He pictured himself visiting the girl in this shabby little home of her aunt’s—she had told him that it was shabby—and he recalled that delicious little smile with which she would surely greet him, a smile which seemed to be a matter of the eyes as well as the lips. When the carpenter a moment afterwards stretched out his hand, scarcely knowing whether he was alive or dead, he found himself alone. Red velvet curtains rustled under dim lights as the door shut with a heavy snap. In a moment they were in the street outside. He did make her perceive something of the acute, tormenting desire for her that had arisen in him and possessed him. He had heard nothing. “I cannot say who he is,” said Ann Veronica, “but he is a married man. “Then let me be the judge of what is best,” she answered. ” He kissed her, and handed her into the carriage. " Pain was stabbing him, now here, now there; pain was real enough; but he could not establish as a fact in his throbbing brain the presence of his aunt in the doorway. That night in his den he smoked many pipes. In the northwest angle, there was a small pen for female offenders, and, on the south, a more commodious enclosure appropriated to the master-debtors and strangers.
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