“Where should we go?” Knowing that they would be dogged wherever they went, she volunteered, “Let’s go to the Big Apple. Sheppard, who witnessed this occurrence with dismay, looked timorously at Wood, in expectation of some hint being given as to the course she had better pursue; but, receiving none, for the carpenter was too much agitated to attend to her, she ventured to express a fear that she was intruding. Their doors stood open, and placards with big letters indicated the section assigned to each. The material cares of life hang about your neck like a millstone. But she had not reckoned with the etiquette of Canongate. She had first picked up the fiddle back when it was still called a viol, that was how long she had been at it.
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