The curtain before one mystery was torn aside, and she saw in reality what lay behind the impulse that had led her into the young man's room. She looked at her for a moment fixedly. He himself, middle-aged, steeped in traditions of the City and moneymaking, very ill-skilled in all the lighter graces of life, as he himself well knew, could yet come to her invested with something of the halo of romance by the almost magical powers of an unlimited banking account. Spurling was no longer allowed to visit him; he was again loaded with irons; fastened by an enormous horse-padlock to a staple in the floor; and only allowed to take repose in a chair. She was as fair as the lily of the lotus. Sharples received them at the threshold, and holding his lantern towards the prisoners to acquaint himself with their features, nodded to Quilt, between whom and himself some secret understanding seemed to subsist, and then closed and barred the door. And if the woman is not a rival, she must be—yes, that must be it. Why should I peep at it through smoked glass to see things that don’t affect me?” He smiled his delight at his companion. She did not know herself.
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