She seized the key, and he grasped her hand and squeezed it roughly and painfully between the handle and the ward as she tried to turn it. “I wonder what he takes me for?” When presently she got down from the stile a certain note of internal conflict, a touch of doubt, had gone from her warm-tinted face. Marvel, who had been a little discomposed by the treatment he had experienced on Holborn Hill, very composedly filled and lighted his pipe. And, as he was about to put himself into a posture of defence, his mother clasped him in her arms. There was nothing to be learned from her face. Bottles and glasses usurped the place of dishes and plates.
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