That night, she hunted the alleyways of the old town. The hand which the man had been holding hung limp and nerveless at her side. Beyond was an avenue of tall poplars that rose like columns, disappearing into undulating hills that were black with sleeping houses and fertile soil. Raven locks fell to her shoulders from under the feathered beaver hat, and curled away down her back. The walls were bare, and painted in stone-colour; the floors, devoid of carpet; the beds, of hangings; the windows, of blinds; and, excepting in the thief-taker's own audience-chamber, there was not a chair or a table about the premises; the place of these conveniences being elsewhere supplied by benches, and deal-boards laid across joint-stools. I didn’t ought to have sent for him.
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