She was weeping now. It was nearly one o’clock; but there were lights still in all her windows. "Let him be handcuffed, and doubly ironed on both legs; and when we get him into the Stone Ward, he shall not only be chained down to the ground, but shall have two additional fetters running through the main links, fastened on each side of him. The piece, in three movements, was short enough anyway. Wood, in equal trepidation. She herself had cut the slender tie that had bound them. ‘We mean you no harm,’ he said reassuringly. “Listen, Annabel,” he said hoarsely. As she approached, the carpenter's wife eyed her from head to foot, in the hope of finding something in her person or apparel to quarrel with. This was the bitterest hour he had ever known. He savored the last solo, the coda. Loneliness—something that was almost physical: as if the vitality had been taken out of the air she breathed.
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