"Go back to the Refuge." The door opened and closed on her.

Mercy was alone again in the room.
Unforgiven by Horace, unforgiven by Lady Janet! She put her hands to her burning head and tried to think.

Oh, for the cool air of the night! Oh, for the friendly shelter of the Refuge! She could feel those sad longings in her: it was impossible to think.
She rang the bell--and shrank back the instant she had done it.

Had _she_ any right to take that liberty?
She ought to have thought of it before she rang.

Habit--all habit.