“I think, aunt,” she said, “you might trust to my self-respect to keep me out of that. Her eyes glistened in the darkness—for light was only admitted through a small grated window—like flames, and, as she fixed them on him, their glances seemed to penetrate his very soul. The latch came with a weak click. Entering London, he bent his way towards the west-end; and having some knowledge of a secondhand tailor's shop in Rupert Street, proceeded thither, and looked out a handsome suit of mourning, with a sword, cloak, and hat, and demanded the price. They did not have to wait long. He had chosen his time well. Then she realized that it was her business to let Manning talk and impose his own interpretations upon the situation so far as he was concerned. That is what I’ve had on my conscience. Such was the simple code that displayed itself in all his thoughts.
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