He sat drinking his tea, still thinking of himself,--knowing how
infinitely better it would be for him that he should indulge in no
such thought, till an idea struck him, and he got up, and, drawing
back the blinds from the open window, looked out into the night. It
was the last day of June, and the weather was very sultry; but the
night was dark, and it was now near midnight. On a sudden he took
his hat, and feeling with a smile for the latchkey which he always
carried in his pocket,--thinking of the latchkey which had been made
at Prague for the lock of a house in Northumberland Street, New Road,
he went down to the front door. "You'll be back soon, Mr. Finn, won't
you now?" said Mrs. Bunce, who had heard his step, and had remained
up, thinking it better this, the first night of his return, not to
rest till he had gone to his bed.
"Why should I be back soon?" he said, turning upon her. But then he
remembered that she had been one of those who were true to him, and
he took her hand and was gracious to her.
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