The idea that he held in his arms the girl whom he had once so passionately loved, and for whom he still retained an ardent but hopeless attachment, almost overcame him. “But all the rest of our case is right. “Can you not understand? It is of no use your taking my identity and all the burden of my iniquities upon your dear shoulders if I am to be recognized the moment I show my face in London. I'm safe enough if you hold your tongue. She gave me an impression of a sort of patched quilt; little bits of patterned stuff coming up again and again. We felt like thieves. The lace was family lace, easily recognizable. She was leaning over him and he smelled her like he had never smelled anyone before. "I think I may trust him with you, Sir," added she, taking up the candle.
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