As the secret door opened, the sounds within the house came at once to her ears: the tramping of feet above, and the hoarse voices echoing through the mansion. His name was Marvel, and his avocation, which was as repulsive as his looks, was that of public executioner. He rested on one elbow. But there was something else; and in his befogged mental state the comparison eluded him. ’ She turned quickly away that her feelings might not be obvious to Lucy and her great-aunt. The London backgrounds, in Bloomsbury and Marylebone, against which these people went to and fro, took on, by reason of their gray facades, their implacably respectable windows and window-blinds, their reiterated unmeaning iron railings, a stronger and stronger suggestion of the flavor of her father at his most obdurate phase, and of all that she felt herself fighting against.
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