E. . “Oh, Lucy. ’ ‘Don’t start arguing again, for God’s sake,’ snapped Roding irritably, dragging out his own large pocket-handkerchief. The windows were grated, the doors barred; each room had the name as well as the appearance of a cell; and the very porter who stood at the gate, habited like a jailer, with his huge bunch of keys at his girdle, his forbidding countenance and surly demeanour seemed to be borrowed from Newgate. I spoke a thought aloud. This salute of his—actually the first she could remember—while it did not disturb her, began to lead her thoughts into new channels of speculation. “All these days I have taken her for you.
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