" Trenchard took up a pen. And yet, the doctor recalled an expression of the girl's: that it was not a dissipated face, only troubled. She had not nursed Leonardo for weeks for nothing. ’ ‘I do not lie to you now,’ she said, near frantic at the thought of losing him. Bulging out more in the middle than at the two extremities, it resembled an enormous cask set on its end, —a sort of Heidelberg tun on a large scale,—and this resemblance was increased by the small circular aperture—it hardly deserved to be called a door—pierced, like the bung-hole of a barrell, through the side of the structure, at some distance from the ground, and approached by a flight of wooden steps. Her momentary instinct was to run to him and be comforted, like the old times. To hand the key back in silence was like offering a lie. U.
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