"
His eyes sadly contemplated her face as its pale responsiveness
modulated through a crowd of expressions that showed only too
clearly to what a pitch she was strung. If ever Winterborne's
heart fretted his bosom it was at this sight of a perfectly
defenceless creature conditioned by such circumstances. He forgot
his own agony in the satisfaction of having at least found her a
shelter. He took his plate and cup from her hands, saying, "Now
I'll push the shutter to, and you will find an iron pin on the
inside, which you must fix into the bolt. Do not stir in the
morning till I come and call you."
She expressed an alarmed hope that he would not go very far away.
"Oh no--I shall be quite within hail," said Winterborne.
She bolted the window as directed, and he retreated. His snug
place proved to be a wretched little shelter of the roughest kind,
formed of four hurdles thatched with brake-fern. Underneath were
dry sticks, hay, and other litter of the sort, upon which he sat
down; and there in the dark tried to eat his meal.
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