She mounted the stairs of the theatrical agent’s office with very much less than her usual buoyancy, nor did she find much encouragement in the general appearance of the room into which she was shown. She never grew angry for anything her husband did: such anger as came to her was directed against the lazy, incompetent servant who was always snooping about in the inner temple—Spurlock's study. To have the present lengthen into years! But in a few hours she would be upon her way, far lonelier than she had ever been. Her loneliness was consuming, Lucia. They had scarcely gained the adjoining cellar when Jonathan and the Jew rushed past in the direction of the vault. Before he even glanced at the man on the floor he stepped over to her side and took the poker from her.
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