” Lucy gestured to the rough plywood floor. Anna raised her eyes. " Himself. 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. "Nothing—nothing," she answered, bursting into tears. " "Loved me! You!" "I loved you," continued Jonathan, "and struck by your appearance, which seemed above your station, inquired your history, and found you had been stolen by a gipsy in Lancashire. I simply warn you. "Coming!—so is midnight—so is Jonathan Wild," retorted Jack, with a significant look at Thames. The old man was conducted to Jack's cell by the turnkey, who remained near him during their interview.
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