"I think I may trust him with you, Sir," added she, taking up the candle. It was dated from the House of Commons on the previous day. She was afraid people would follow her, she was afraid of the dark, open doorways she passed, and afraid of the blazes of light; she was afraid to be alone, and she knew not what it was she feared. For the first time, perhaps, in his life, he repented of his brutality. She saw it, and checked without thinking. ‘My dear boy, your loyalty is misplaced. I can’t but feel it’s an undesirable complication to drag in the Charvills at this point.
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