. Nothing could exceed the dismay of these personages when they learnt why they had been summoned. ’ ‘Alone, miss?’ ‘Certainly alone. A solemn consideration, when I enter a great city at night, that every one of those darkly clustered houses encloses its own secret; that every room in every one of them encloses its own secret; that every beating heart in the hundreds of thousands of breasts there, is, in some of its imaginings, a secret to the heart nearest it!' … It kind of terrifies me," said Ruth, looking up, first at the face of her husband, then at McClintock's. “Look at our affair,” he went on, looking up at her. ” It did begin to fall into place together. He was a comforting, humorous old ruffian; but there were few men in the Orient more deeply read in psychology and physiognomy. What you want to do is to imagine every woman a Becky Sharp and every man a Rawdon Crawley.
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