If ever I did meet a man I could love, I should love him”—her voice dropped again—“platonically. Rattles were sprung; lanterns lighted, and hoisted at the end of poles; windows thrown open; doors unbarred; and, as if by magic, the street was instantaneously filled with a crowd of persons of both sexes, armed with such weapons as came most readily to hand, and dressed in such garments as could be most easily slipped on. Much has been advanced by modern writers respecting the demoralising effect of prison society; and it has been asserted, that a youth once confined in Newgate, is certain to come out a confirmed thief. “I don’t know whether I shall go on,” said Gwen, a novel note of languorous professionalism creeping into her voice.
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