"An idea has just occurred to me," said Gay, "which Jack's narrative has suggested. ” They remained looking at each other for three or four seconds. "Gracious Heaven!—is she the inmate of a mad-house?" "She is, Sir," answered the woollen-draper, sadly, "driven there by her son's misconduct. He seemed happy with her, finding her proper and seemly. ’ ‘Alone, miss?’ ‘Certainly alone. A door in this house opened upon the yard. With all your cunning, we're more than a match for you. They sucked face and felt each other up, or something. Never was heard such a bawling as these unfortunate wights kept up. But are we any more free?” “Well?” “I mean we’ve long strings to tether us, but we are bound all the same. "Oh! that was all, was it?" said the turnkey, quietly reseating himself.
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