She thought of an old abandoned barn that she could inhabit further downriver, but shrugged off the idea in disdain. "Come home directly, Sir. E. I next proceeded to Jenny Bunch's, the Ship, in Trig Lane—there I got the same answer. Disperse in every direction. It seemed as if each time her imagination reached out investingly, an invisible lash beat it back. “I have noticed,” he said, “that you seem to delight in taking a topsy-turvy view of life. “You are very kind to think of it,” she said, “but—don’t you think perhaps—that I had better not?” He smiled indulgently.
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