Ye can ha' nae better gae-between than yer puir servant to command, Sawmuel Bishopriggs.

I understand ye baith pairfeckly." He laid his forefinger along his flaming nose, and withdrew.
Without allowing herself to hesitate for an instant, Anne opened the bedroom door--with the resolution of relieving Arnold from the new sacrifice imposed on him by owning the truth.
"Is that you ?" asked Blanche.
At the sound of her voice, Anne started back guiltily.

"I'll be with you in a moment," she answered, and closed the door again between them.
No! it was not to be done.

Something in Blanche's trivial question--or something, perhaps, in the sight of Blanche's face--roused the warning instinct in Anne, which silenced her on the very brink of the disclosure.

At the last moment the iron chain of circumstances made itself felt, binding her without mercy to the hateful, the degrading deceit.