Spurling stood her negro attendant, Caliban; a hideous, misshapen, malicious monster, with broad hunched shoulders, a flat nose, and ears like those of a wild beast, a head too large for his body, and a body too long for his legs. Here, then, but for the time and place, might be another Sidney Carton. She found the silence comforting, as old people often do. ‘All so long ago and my memory ain’t what it was. I think we rest here until to-morrow?” There was a brief silence. It is useless to trace out her miserable career; though I can easily do so if you require it. ‘Troops?’ ‘Go, man,’ urged the major in an undervoice. You feel that that smile is for you, the words are for you, the whole song is for you. Teacher. CHAPTER XVII.
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