CHAPTER VIII.
I Find that I Care.
For a moment I stood stock still, wishing to Heaven that I had not opened the door; for I could find now no excuse for my intrusion, and no reason why I should not have minded my own business.

The impulse that had made the thing done was exhausted in the doing of it.

Retreat became my sole object; and, drawing back, I pulled the door after me.

But I had given Fortune a handle--very literally; for the handle of the door grated loud as I turned it.

Despairing of escape, I stood still.