Dillingham's. Opposite
to her house, he sat down upon the curb-stone again, and recalled his
old passion for her. The thought of her treachery and of his own
fatuitous vanity--the reflection that he had been so blind in his
self-conceit that she had led him to his ruin, stung him to the quick.
He saw a stone at his feet. He picked it up, and, taking his satchel in
one hand, went half across the street, and hurled the little missile at
her window. He heard the crash of glass and a shrill scream, and then
walked rapidly off. Then he heard a watchman running from a distance;
for the noise was peculiar, and resounded along the street. The watchman
met him and made an inquiry, but passed on without suspecting the
fugitive's connection with the alarm.
As soon as he was out of the street, he quickened his pace, and went
directly to Talbot's. Then he rang the door-bell, once, twice, thrice.
Mr. Talbot put his head out of the window, looked down, and, in the
light of a street lamp, discovered the familiar figure of his old
principal. "I'll come down," he said, "and let you in."
The conference was a long one, and it ended in both going into the
street, and making their way to Talbot's stable, two or three blocks
distant.
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