The silence of Canton at night was sinister, for none could prophesy what form of mob might suddenly boil out. She flushed with desire and happiness, her husband had returned to her and all would be aright. Both arm-chairs had been moved a little so as to face each other on either side of the fender, and in the circular glow of the green-shaded lamp there lay, conspicuously waiting, a thick bundle of blue and white papers tied with pink tape. On that first occasion, the delay in locating the entrance to the secret passage meant that she had to wait until morning to make her search. “I feel justified then,” he said, “in annexing his chair. McClintock's initial revulsion was natural; he was an honest man. “Not a bit. His face darkened. Wood struck me a blow which made me a robber. She had not chosen her life, but she was foggy on whether or not it was right to deny others the right to join her in her suffering.
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