Leaving the house, I took the way once more that led to Fordwitch Wood.

What would Mrs.Roylake have said, if she had discovered that I was going back to the mill?
There was no other alternative.

The portfolio was a trust confided to me; the sooner I returned it to the writer of the confession--the sooner I told him plainly the conclusion at which I had arrived--the more at ease my mind would be.
The sluggish river looked muddier than ever, the new cottage looked uglier than ever, exposed to the searching ordeal of sunlight.

I knocked at the door on the ancient side of the building.
Cristel's father--shall I confess I had hoped that it might be Cristel herself ?--let me in.

In by-gone days, I dimly remembered him as old and small and withered.