“I’ll go,” she vowed to the night, “or I’ll die!” She made plans and estimated means and resources. She felt this was the sensible way out of this oddly sinister situation. “I will believe you. The floor was thickly strewn with sawdust and shavings; and across the room ran a long and wide bench, furnished at one end with a powerful vice; next to which three nails driven into the boards served, it would appear from the lump of unconsumed tallow left in their custody, as a substitute for a candlestick. 13 Montague Street. “I have not left this apartment myself. Wood, disdainfully. Tell me how you are earning your living here, Anna—typewriting, or painting, or lady’s companion?” “I think,” Anna said, “that the less you know about me the better. There it was—to be borrowed. And yet, when you offered to help, it was what is to come that I had in mind.
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