He pushed her to his bed, little more than a cot, and pulled off her clothes. For if the likeness between the sisters was remarkable, the likeness between this girl and the poster which he had come from studying was more remarkable still. The Iron Bar. She followed Oxford Street into Holborn, and then she inquired for Chancery Lane. She went up-stairs and hesitated between four doors with ground-glass panes, each of which professed “The Women’s Bond of Freedom” in neat black letters. The tree-lined streets were silent except for the sporadic revving of glass packs down Church Avenue. I hope I haven't given any unintentional offence?" said the widow, again meekly appealing to Wood. She would then hear his feet pounding up the steps and he would burst into whatever room she was sitting in and say, “There she is! My wife! Hiding her beauty from the world!” He would then run to her, grab her book or embroidery and unceremoniously toss them to the floor.
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