” 152 < 19 > THE WINDS OF NOVEMBER The Thanksgiving season brought a fierce wind that relentlessly whipped around the brick corners of the school. He learnt that his sister was privately married—the name or rank of her husband could not be ascertained—and living in retirement in an obscure dwelling in the Borough, where she had given birth to a son. "Has he escaped?" asked the thief-taker, faintly. " "Well, I never was more surprised in my life," said the poet,—"never!" "He's just the man I expected to see," observed Hogarth, who, having arranged everything to Thornhill's satisfaction, had turned to look at the prisoner, and was now with his chin upon his wrist, and his elbow supported by the other hand, bending his keen gray eyes upon him, "just the man! Look at that light, lithe figure,—all muscle and activity, with not an ounce of superfluous flesh upon it. . ” Ann Veronica made a sympathetic little murmur.
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