‘How could I know that it is you?’ She peered at him in the darkness. Capes was something superadded. You were afraid of me, afraid that I should have been shocked, afraid of the scandal. Over an old crazy bedstead was thrown a squalid, patchwork counterpane; and upon the counterpane lay a black hood and scarf, a pair of bodice of the cumbrous form in vogue at the beginning of the last century, and some other articles of female attire. She formed a wild resolution, and, lest she should waver from it, she set about at once to realize it.
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