Wood fared still worse. Ten thousand steeds appeared to be trampling aloft, charged with the work of devastation. The windows were small, and strongly grated, looking, in front, on Kendrick Yard, and, at the back, upon the spacious burial-ground of Saint Giles's Church. From the window he saw The Tigress faring toward Copeley's! Then somebody was coming? Some political high muckamuck, probably. It was the very spot from which his poor mother had gazed after her vain attempt to rescue him at the Mint; but, though he was ignorant of this, her image was alone present to him. But if I were you, I shouldn't warn Spurlock. Perhaps I may borrow yours one day?’ ‘Lucilla, you wretch,’ burst from the captain. “Second class,” said some one, but first and second were all alike to her.
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