Her aunt glanced up startled, and then sat very still, with hands that had ceased to work. “By-the-bye, Lady Ferringhall,” he said, “do you know that I am a very great admirer of your sister’s? I wonder if she has ever spoken to you of me. It was a work of no slight danger, for every instant a wall, or fragment of a building, came crashing to the ground. Suddenly all this makes you human. It seemed to her the last desperate attack upon the universe that would not let her live as she desired to live, that penned her in and controlled her and directed her and disapproved of her, the same invincible wrappering, the same leaden tyranny of a universe that she had vowed to overcome after that memorable conflict with her father at Morningside Park. So get up, and let's be off.
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