“It is no good playing a game. A bobbing lantern, crossing the bridge—for she had not drawn the curtain—attracted her attention. "Ah! who have we here?" exclaimed Griffin. He remembered that he had heard stories about the wonderful likeness between these two sisters, one of whom was an artist and a recluse, whilst the other had attached herself to a very gay and a very brilliant little coterie of pleasure-seekers. She was dressed in one of those complicated dresses that are all lace and work and confused patternings of black and purple and cream about the body, and she was in many ways a younger feminine version of the same theme as himself. The beautiful city that she had been awed by and even grown to love had been abandoned. " And he raised his arm with the intention of executing his purpose, when a ball from Jack's pistol passed through the back of his hand, shattering the limb.
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