‘Do you think I do not know? What am I doing here, do you think?’ ‘That’s just exactly what I’ve been asking myself,’ he returned. She took the tray with both hands, gulped, and gave way to tears. Lights glimmered in the windows of the different houses; and a lamp-lighter was running from post to post on his way to Snow Hill. “This is not every day. To write under a pseudonym!—to be forced to disown his children! He could not write under his own name, enjoy the fruits of fame should these tales prove successful. In the subdued light she could not tell whether he was asleep or awake.
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