She entered the front hall, formerly magnificent, now faded and dusty, the old wood table waiting for guests who would never come. Sheppard, struggling to get free. His shirt was unfastened, his vest unbuttoned, his hose ungartered; his feet were stuck into a pair of pantoufles, his arms into a greasy flannel dressing-gown, his head into a thrum-cap, the cap into a tie-periwig, and the wig into a gold-edged hat. She could not see any relief from this anxiety except repayment, and repayment seemed impossible. Seventeen hours, sixteen hours. I would not have him know—now—for the world. He was dressed with the utmost care, and he set his feet upon the broad walk as though the action were in some way a condescension. ’ She eyed him. I want to make you feel that here is a place where the crowd does not clamor nor ill-winds blow.
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