" "My death will lie at your door," remarked Jackson to the carpenter. A light was visible in the garret, feebly struggling through the damp atmosphere, for the night was raw and overcast. It was interesting to see how different and characteristic his mode of approach was to all sorts of questions that interested her, and it was amusing to discover this other side to the life of a Morningside Park inhabitant. She seemed to have no idea whatever of the emotional states that were becoming to her age and position. ‘I want a word with you, my lad. On the one hand, she seemed to think plainly and simply, and would talk serenely and freely about topics that most women have been trained either to avoid or conceal; and on the other she was unconscious, or else she had an air of being unconscious—that was the riddle—to all sorts of personal applications that almost any girl or woman, one might have thought, would have made. Her expression was a little changed, less innocent, more discerning. I mystify you; I can see that. She doesn't love you; she hasn't the least idea what it means beyond what she has read in novels. Beside me on Anna’s table was a pistol. The rascal will be at work before the morning.
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