” “But I’m quite equal to taking care of myself, aunt. Wood then took to his heels, and never once looked behind him till he reached his own dwelling in Wych Street. ‘I know her, ma’am, but I know next to nothing of her story. . As matters now stand, I'm only a thief, not a blackguard. “Why can’t you tell people that you are what you are? Why all the secrecy?” She looked beyond the farmhouse. She had never felt so acutely the desire for free initiative, for a life unhampered by others. "What poet was that?" "Stevenson.
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