Part 2 The next morning was as dark and foggy as if it was mid-November instead of early March. "Forgive me—oh, forgive me!" "Forgive you—bless you!" she gasped. "I find I was in error. In one angle of the room stood a disused fire-place, with a rusty grate and broken chimney-piece; in the other there was a sort of box, contrived between the wall and the boards, that looked like an apology for a cupboard. “I’ve brought you up some dinner, Vee,” she said. Sheppard," cried the carpenter's wife bitterly; "and, I repeat, Bedlam's too good for her. No one could take the place for anything but what it was, and even Gosse hesitated in the doorway. Shari squealed, clutching her towel around her. Some man! And to conclude it all was the figure of her father in the doorway, giving her a last chance, his hat in one hand, his umbrella in the other, shaken at her to emphasize his point. “And how did you find us here?” “I called at Montague Street a few minutes after you had left. It was exactly as Sebastian had foreseen.
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