Lucia liked the doctor though, and he seemed to be very fond of her too. There was a wall; she was always encountering it; the one time she was able to break through this wall was when the part in his hair was crooked. If the boy had done anything wrong back there in the States, his would be the brand of conscience to pay him out in full. The first time, I overlooked the offence; but the second time, when I had planned to break open the house of his master, the fellow who visited you to-night,—Wood, the carpenter of Wych Street,—he betrayed me. It was not as bad a wound as she had at first thought, and the blood was only oozing now. “And aren’t there fees to pay at the Imperial College?” her aunt was saying—a disagreeable question.
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