She could not resist enduing persons she met with the noble attributes of the fictional characters. See paragraph 1. He regretted now that in his idle hours he hadn't hunted up one against the rainy day. The cultivated indifference, which was part of the armour of his little world fell away from him. In doing so, he had to clamber up the immense heap of bricks and rubbish which now littered the floor, amounting almost to a car-load, and reaching up nearly to the top of the chimney-piece. Lucy sighed. Being a Chinaman in blood and instinct, he despised all spinsters; they were parasites. On weighing the matter over, he grew so uneasy that he resolved to descend, and inform him of his misgivings. "Is your master at home?" inquired the jailer.
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