“I have given it up,” she answered. Jolly nose! the bright rubies that garnish thy tip Are dug from the mines of canary; And to keep up their lustre I moisten my lip With hogsheads of claret and sherry. “Hospital? What for? What’s the matter with me?” Courtlaw’s voice sank to a whisper. He had taken it back. Listening on the dimlit landing, he saw Roding’s face muscles tighten. And instead he found her playing the great lady, and playing it well. A smile trembled at the corners of her mouth as she recalled Gerald’s ridiculous upbraiding of his own reflection in the mirror. They had escaped from the New Prison, it is true; but the wall of Clerkenwell Bridewell, by which that jail was formerly surrounded, and which was more than twenty feet high, and protected by formidable and bristling chevaux de frise, remained to be scaled. F.
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