The houses were older, the shops gloomier, and the thoroughfare narrower, it is true; but the bustle, the crowd, the street-like air was the same. Wood's bed-chamber—it was locked, with the key left in it. If you knew your aunt were alive, if she expected you, that would be different. She never questioned the motives of the characters; she had neither the ability nor the conceit for that; but she could and often did correct his lapses in colour. Would to God I had. She watched for five minutes until he completely disappeared over Pine Crest, past the yellow fire hydrant and the dented stop sign. “But was it wise to sing to-night?” “Why not? The man was nothing to me.
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