Lucy felt her heart splinter in her breast. Bulging out more in the middle than at the two extremities, it resembled an enormous cask set on its end, —a sort of Heidelberg tun on a large scale,—and this resemblance was increased by the small circular aperture—it hardly deserved to be called a door—pierced, like the bung-hole of a barrell, through the side of the structure, at some distance from the ground, and approached by a flight of wooden steps. I—listen. “The first is to discover what she is here for, and where she is staying. They walked side by side for a time. Yet you make our Bohemianism seem like a vulgar thing. . ” “Maybe I should stay away.
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