"Every inch of it," replied the woollen-draper. So long as she stood beside him, the Hand would not prevail. And this great mellow place, this London, now was hers, to struggle with, to go where she pleased in, to overcome and live in. She drifted back into the welcoming arms of sleep, feeling herself surrounded in silk. But this wild scheme was speedily abandoned; and, nerved by despair, the carpenter resolved to hazard an attempt, from the execution, almost from the contemplation, of which he had hitherto shrunk. Planting his knee against her side, he pulled her towards him with one hand, while with the other he sought his knife.
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