The study seemed absolutely unaltered, there was still the same lamp with a little chip out of the shade, still the same gas fire, still the same bundle of blue and white papers, it seemed, with the same pink tape about them, at the elbow of the arm-chair, still the same father. Or had she, like himself, been held up until the fellow returned to town? He waited, his ready humour anticipating her likely reaction. What do you say to Brighton——” Anna looked at him quietly—and he never finished his sentence. Norris. The thief-taker's throat was bound up with thick folds of linen, and his face had a ghastly and cadaverous look, which communicated an undefinable and horrible expression to his glances. “I do,” Anna answered.
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