. . “The truth!” It was a moment of awkwardness between the two sisters —a moment, too, charged with its own psychological interest, for there were secrets between them which for many months had made their intercourse a constrained and difficult thing. “They died within a few months of one another. She would meet him upon this ground: he should never be given the slightest hint that she was unhappy. He would have to make sure of her silence. And then there came for both of them at least a temporary awakening. On the groundfloor the shutters were closed, or, to speak more correctly, altogether nailed up, and presented a very singular appearance, being patched all over with the soles of old shoes, rusty hobnails, and bits of iron hoops, the ingenious device of the former occupant of the apartment, Paul Groves, the cobbler, to whom we have before alluded. Said Prudence, with commendable human kindness: "My sister and I are going on to Shanghai and Peking.
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