Podcast Appearances
As he went out into the rigorous night, I saw the lonely figure flit away before us.
I turned him hastily on some pretense and held him in conversation until it was gone.
He spoke of a traveller's house on the Dover Road where he knew he could find a clean, plain lodging for the night.
I went with him over Westminster Bridge and parted from him on the Surrey Shore.
Everything seemed, to my imagination...
to be hushed in reverence for him as he resumed his solitary journey through the snow.
I returned to the inn yard and, impressed by my remembrance of the face, meaning Martha's face, looked awfully around for it.
The snow had covered our late footprints.
My new track was the only one to be seen, and even that began to die away.
It snowed so fast as I looked back over my shoulder.
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