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He looked at her, his eyes filled with excited terror and astonishment at her move. Withdrawing another bolt, and unhooking a chain suspended from the top of the casement, Jonathan pushed the iron framework outwards. “Quite an unimportant one,” he assured her. “I thought I saw her in town to-day,” he said. I felt—I felt living in a masked world. One small wing lay at the north of the gate, where Giltspur Street Compter now stands; and the Press Yard, which was detached from the main building, was situated at the back of Phoenix Court. Sheppard heaved a deep sigh, and opened her eyes, which now looked larger, blacker, and more melancholy than ever. Giles's was lined with spectators. If I did not love you en désespoir, I would assuredly blow off your head.

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