"Extinguish the light," cried Jack; "turn to the left. “YOU wouldn’t like to be independent?” he asked, abruptly. But you must allow me to observe, my good Sir, that you're wholly in the wrong respecting my friend. They are their mother’s sons. Ascending the stairs, and conducting them along a sombre gallery, in which Trenchard noticed that every door was painted black, and numbered, he stopped at the entrance of a chamber; and, selecting a key from the bunch at his girdle, unlocked it. In the twilight he had ceased to be a person one could tackle and shame; he had become something more general, a something that crawled and sneaked toward her and would not let her alone.
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