For a time it really seemed all-sufficient to her that she should love. He hated horizons. She regarded him coldly, as though wondering whether he had anything further to say. He urged his conductors to a quicker pace to get out of sight of the distressing spectacle, and even felt relieved when he was shut out from it and the execrations of the mob by the walls of the little prison. In one angle of the room stood a disused fire-place, with a rusty grate and broken chimney-piece; in the other there was a sort of box, contrived between the wall and the boards, that looked like an apology for a cupboard. There you are, the best client’s chair.
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