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So he made merry at the dinner table, told comic stories, and was astonished at the readiness with which she grasped the comic side of life. She was quite oblivious to the sensation she had created. ‘Yes, but I do not know why he should wish to do so, and therefore I cannot permit that he interferes. A brief feeling of empathy with Pottiswick passed through him. Send you the shirt. You will have lots of time on your hands. He then mounted the jaded hack, which had long since regained its legs, and was quietly browsing the grass at the road-side, and, striking spurs into its side, rode off. It must be some days before you can arrange for her to make an identification. Who could say that the girl's father had not once been a fashionable clergyman in the States and that drink had got him and forced him down, step by step, until—to use the child's odd expression—he had come upon the beach? She was cynical, this spinster. Spurling, formerly, it may be remembered, the hostess of the Dark House at Queenhithe,—whence wine, ale, and brandy of inferior quality were dispensed, in false measures, and at high prices, throughout the prison, which in noise and debauchery rivalled, if it did not surpass, the lowest tavern. A tinge of admiration rose in his breast. Over here, there was generally some unusual twist to a case.
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