She had decided that she would spend the next morning answering advertisements in the papers that abounded in the writing-room; and so, after half an hour’s perusal of back numbers of the Sketch in the drawingroom, she had gone to bed. She had a feeling at his departure as of an immense cavity, of something enormously gone; she could not tell whether it was infinite regret or infinite relief. Let her see if she could manage this one, perhaps turn all to suit herself? ‘What do you think to do with me now?’ The captain lowered the pistol. She sat drawn together in her chair in the corner of the box, at a loss what to say or do—afraid, curious, perplexed.
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