"Your son," replied Jack,—"your miserable, repentant son. Prison was bleak without spaciousness, and pervaded by a faint, oppressive smell; and she had to wait two hours in the sullenly defiant company of two unclean women thieves before a cell could be assigned to her. Well aware that the doors in this passage were much stronger than those in the entry he had just quitted he was neither surprised nor dismayed to find it fastened by a lock of unusual size. The doctor laughed. Perhaps," she added, in a whisper, as she appropriated the beforenamed article, "he has a pocket-book. A SCENE FROM THE PHOTOPLAY.
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