at a spot," thought I, "for Amelia Butterworth to find herself in!"
and wondered if I could ever wear again the three-dollar-a-yard silk
dress in which I was then enveloped. Of my shoes I took no account. They
were ruined, of course.

I reached the window in safety, but could not open it; neither could I
move the adjoining one. There were sixteen in all, or so I afterwards
found, and not till I reached the last (you see, I am very persistent)
did I succeed in loosening the bar that held its inner shutter in place.
This done, I was able to lift the window, and for the first time in
years, perhaps, let in a ray of light into this desolated apartment.

The result was disappointing. Mouldy walls, worm-eaten hangings, two
very ancient and quaint fireplaces, met my eyes, and nothing more. The
room was absolutely empty. For a few minutes I allowed my eyes to roam
over the great rectangular space in which so much that was curious and
interesting had once taken place, and then, with a vague sense of
defeat, turned my eyes outward, anxious to see what view could be
obtained from the window I had opened. To my astonishment, I saw before
me a high wall with here and there a window in it, all tightly barred
and closed, till by a careful inspection about me I realized that I was
looking upon the other wing of the building, and that between these
wings extended a court so narrow and long that it gave to the building
the shape, as I have before said, of the letter U. A dreary prospect,
reminding one of the view from a prison, but it had its point of
interest, for in the court below me, the brick pavement of which was
half obliterated by grass, I caught sight of William in an attitude so
different from any I had hitherto seen him assume that I found it
difficult to account for it till I caught sight of the jaws of a dog
protruding from under his arms, and then I realized he was hugging
Saracen.

The dog was tied, but the comfort which William seemed to take in just
this physical contact with his rough skin was something worth seeing. It
made me quite thoughtful for a moment.

I detest dogs, and it gives me a creepy sensation to see them fondled,
but sincerity of feeling appeals to me, and no one could watch William
Knollys with his dogs without seeing that he really loved the brutes.
Thus in one day I had witnessed the best and worst side of this man. But
wait! Had I seen the worst? I was not so sure that I had.

He had not noticed