You’ll end there one day, mark my words. Satisfied, however, that she did not notice him, Jonathan glided away as noiselessly as he came, and ascended another short flight of stairs leading to the garret. "Woman, your wits are fled!" And so it seemed; for all the answer she could make was to murmur distractedly, "I can't find the key. The fibre of his soul had to be tested, queerly, to make him worthy of you. I have it on my conscience that I offended you—” “Offended me when?” “I’ve been haunted by the memory of you.
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