Somewhere in the world would be his people, perhaps his mother; and it might soften the bitterness, of the return to consciousness if he found a woman at his bedside. Her loneliness was consuming, Lucia. Wood, who had been absent on business during the greater part of the day, returned (perhaps not altogether undesignedly) at an earlier hour than was expected, to his dwelling in Wych Street, Drury Lane; and was about to enter his workshop, when, not hearing any sound of labour issue from within, he began to suspect that an apprentice, of whose habits of industry he entertained some doubt, was neglecting his employment. I have suffered—I have sinned—I have repented. "Lost no time on the road—eh!—I didn't expect you till to-morrow at the earliest. But then the features changed. I guess those books are okay because they are fiction.
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