It tore her apart. Wood was so much exhausted that he was obliged to retire to his own room, where he continued for some hours overpowered by grief. She had followed a bobbing white hat and gray jacket until she reached the Euston Road corner of Tottenham Court Road, and there, by the name on a bus and the cries of a conductor, she made a guess of her way. Get a license—just an idea of mine. He roused curiosities. The river, the big buildings on the north bank, Westminster, and St. Under this unnerving scrutiny, a slow flush mounted to the woman’s cheeks. At least I rather hoped I might spend my time chasing smugglers, which would have afforded some excitement. Listening at one of the doors leading to the Master Debtors' side, he heard a loud voice chanting a Bacchanalian melody, and the boisterous laughter that accompanied the song, convinced him that no suspicion was entertained in this quarter. I was to blame to carry the matter so far. "What do you want?" he asked, in a gruff voice. To be near someone, even someone who made a pretense of friendliness, to hear voices, her own intermingling, would serve as a rehabilitating tonic. You know not what a wretched guilty thing I am.
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