“Are you speaking to me?” she asked calmly. The swelling in his limbs had also subsided. She was dressed in a little white frock, with a very long body, and very short sleeves, which looked (from a certain fullness about the hips,) as if it was intended to be worn with a hoop. Aided by an individual, who was acquainted with a secret outlet from the tenement, Darrell escaped. There was no past, no future, only this exhilarating present. Hadn’t they settled that already? “I want you as a friend,” he persisted, almost as if he disputed something. “Is it your maid?” he asked.
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