Between 103 and 102 there was the parochial workhouse, quite a long and imposing edifice.

One evening, upon coming in from an outing, I found a letter he had written on the sitting-room table.

He had left it with his card.

He spoke of the shock he had received upon finding that next to 102--presumably 103--was the workhouse.

He had loved me, but had always feared that I would end by disgracing the family--being hanged or something--but the "work'us," that was beyond him; he had not thought it would come to that.