"Heaven be praised, I am not the son of a nobleman. ” “Oh, it wasn’t that. ‘You should be. “I am tired,” she said, “and I want to rest. ‘Then open it quickly. “I am developing ailments,” she said, meeting his questioning eyes. Aware that he should incur the thief-taker's bitterest animosity by what he had done, the watchman, whose wrath against Quilt Arnold had evaporated during the walk, thought it more prudent not to hazard a meeting with his master, till the storm had, in some measure, blown over.
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