She should leave sooner, but she just could not bear missing the event. He learnt that his sister was privately married—the name or rank of her husband could not be ascertained—and living in retirement in an obscure dwelling in the Borough, where she had given birth to a son. A stout female stood in the aperture, an oil lamp in her hand. “No Christmas dinner,” she said, “or anything nice! One doesn’t even know what you are doing. A solemn consideration, when I enter a great city at night, that every one of those darkly clustered houses encloses its own secret; that every room in every one of them encloses its own secret; that every beating heart in the hundreds of thousands of breasts there, is, in some of its imaginings, a secret to the heart nearest it!' … It kind of terrifies me," said Ruth, looking up, first at the face of her husband, then at McClintock's. Their momentary absence seemed to have worked wonders; for now the most perfect understanding appeared to subsist between them.
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