A hollow feeling opened up inside her, and she felt her heartbeat quicken. Wood, who had been absent on business during the greater part of the day, returned (perhaps not altogether undesignedly) at an earlier hour than was expected, to his dwelling in Wych Street, Drury Lane; and was about to enter his workshop, when, not hearing any sound of labour issue from within, he began to suspect that an apprentice, of whose habits of industry he entertained some doubt, was neglecting his employment. Talk to her of the new story; divert her; for this day her heart has been twisted sorely. The clouds were nearly black with rain, threatening to spill sleet in daggers and torrents. She did not enter the cabin at once, but paused on the threshold and stared at the silent, recumbent figure in the bunk. It’s a sort of guarantee of confidence.
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