From a locked drawer she brought forth packets of letters, the storage of many years, and out of these selected carefully perhaps a tithe, which she bound together and deposited in a box; the remainder she burnt in the empty fireplace.

Moreover, she collected from about the room a number of little objects, ornaments and things of use, which also found a place in the same big box.

All her personal property which had any value for her, except books, was finally under lock and key, and in portable repositories.

But still she kept moving, as if in search of trifles that might have escaped her notice; silently, in her soft slippers, she strayed hither and thither, till the short summer night had all but given place to dawn; and when at length weariness compelled her to go to bed, she was not able to sleep.
Nor did Mary Barfoot enjoy much sleep that night.

She lay thinking, and forecasting strange possibilities.
On Monday evening, returned from Great Portland Street, the first thing she did was to visit Rhoda's chamber.