Do you live here?" "Not exactly," answered the carpenter. She could not judge its direction, and began to move swiftly along the bookshelves, her hand running behind her across the spines of the calfbound volumes. There was something indeed holding the whole species back from the imaginable largeness of life. They moved fast. Supposing she saw the young man at dinner that night, emptying his bottle? She could not go to him, sit down and draw the sordid pictures she had seen so often. " "Leave you!" echoed the ruffian, with a contemptuous laugh; "—not just yet. He seemed to charge her with the ruin of their situation. I've opened the case of books. Besides, you've secrets which must not be disclosed. And it hampers us. There was no keeping Sheila from the truth, and it was better that anyone who lived under her roof knew it.
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