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And then, as she stood there, with the fragments of the torn canvas at her feet, some even caught upon her skirt, the door was thrown open, and a girl entered humming a light tune. The prison gates were besieged like the entrance of a booth at a fair; and the Condemned Hold where he was confined, and to which visitors were admitted at the moderate rate of a guinea a-head, had quite the appearance of a showroom. There were moments when she thought of turning upon this man and talking to him. I suspect he has a bit of vanity. Spurling bit her lips to conceal her mirth. “The young women of Jane Austen’s time didn’t get into this sort of scrape! At least—one thinks so. A stout female stood in the aperture, an oil lamp in her hand. Whatever may happen to-morrow I shall be none the better for anticipating its miseries to-day. Have you ever heard the name of Meysey Hill?” “Meysey Hill?” He repeated it after her, and she knew at once from his tone and his quick glance into her face that the name possessed some significance for him. “I think that I know very well what I am saying,” she answered. ’ The girl glanced up the road and turned back, annoyance in her face.
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