The Crucible of Character
reached down to the bottom of the cannister and clutched one of the large squares of silver-papered chocolate. There were other pieces in the cannister, but he did not stop to take them all, as had been his first intention. The sound of feet on the laundry stairs reached his ears and he turned and fled.
At the top of the stairs he slackened his pace, and leaned panting over the banister. No one was following him. Then with slow and cautious steps and eyes watchful, like an animal's, he crept on, from door to door, to the nursery.
There he sat down, wiping the cold perspiration from his face with his coat sleeve. Then he got up and walked to the window. The room seemed suffocatingly hot to him. He noticed he had left the door open. After peering a silent moment or two down the hall he quickly closed the door, and would have locked it, but there was no key.
With trembling fingers he drew the cake of chocolate from under his blouse. He had broken it, in his flight, and to his horror, three or four loose bits fell on the floor.
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