"I couldn't rest till I had sent her something.

She'll wonder to the end of her life who the money came from.

But she's made use of it, poor creature, and it'll bring her luck." Only the hopeless suppression of natural desires, the conflict through years of ardent youth with sordid circumstances, could have brought him to the pass he had now reached--one of desperation centred in self.
Every suggestion of native suavity and prudence was swept away in tumultuous revolt.

Another twelvemonth of his slavery and he would have yielded to brutalising influences which rarely relax their hold upon a man.

To-day he was prompted by the instinct of flight from peril threatening all that was worthy in him.
Just as the last glimmer of daylight vanished from his room there sounded a knock at the door.
"Your tea's ready, Mr.Hilliard," called a woman's voice.
He took his meals downstairs in the landlady's parlour.