“To tell you the truth though, I am quite a stranger in London, and it occurred to me that Mr. It was an odd little encounter, that left vague and dubitable impressions in her mind. She could hear him from the lower floor as he locked the gates and drew up the wooden part of the bridge. Kneebone, who was on the point of departing. I don’t mean I’m not a good woman—I mean that I’m not a GOOD woman. “I didn’t know Mr. “You didn’t expect that I should kiss you?” “How was I to know that a man would—would think it was possible—when there was nothing—no love?” “How did I know there wasn’t love?” That silenced her for a moment.
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