But this revulsion was engulfed by the succeeding waves of pity and understanding. “I saw him stagger and sink down, and the pistol was smoking still in my hand. “I hope you are going to Carey House. Flesh and blood, vivid, alluring; she was no longer the symbol, therefore she had become, as in the twinkling of an eye, an utter stranger. The first time, I overlooked the offence; but the second time, when I had planned to break open the house of his master, the fellow who visited you to-night,—Wood, the carpenter of Wych Street,—he betrayed me.
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