" "Comin'! comin'!" returned the constable, shuffling towards him. A silver necklace enhanced the dusky beauty of her neck. Her eyes glistened in the darkness—for light was only admitted through a small grated window—like flames, and, as she fixed them on him, their glances seemed to penetrate his very soul. "It's very well you haven't crushed the poor little thing to death with this confounded clothes'-bag. But heavens, I must pack!” She sprang to her feet and disappeared in the room beyond, from which she emerged a few minutes later with flushed cheeks and dishevelled hair. "And now," she added, with somewhat more composure, "leave me, dear friends, I entreat, for a few minutes to collect my scattered thoughts—to prepare myself for what I have to go through—to pray for my son. ” Again on his way homeward from Cavendish Square he abandoned the direct route to pass by the door of Anna’s flat.
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