Wood was unable to discover the figure of the widow, but he recognised her dry, hacking cough, and was about to call her down, if she could not find the key, as he imagined must be the case, when a loud noise was heard, as though a chest, or some weighty substance, had fallen upon the floor. He was in love with her! She tried to grasp all the welter of values in the situation simultaneously, and draw some conclusion from their disorder. But I don’t think she lays hold of one so. “Thank you. She had thought—What had she thought? That this dependence of women was but an illusion which needed only to be denied to vanish. It was Ramage, the occupant of the big house at the end of the Avenue.
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