” “Why?” asked Hetty. ” “Did it hurt when we did it?” His voice rose, inflamed with worry. 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. He was normal now, and the coat was only a coat. " "Are you man, or fiend?" exclaimed Trenchard, staring at the stranger, as he concluded his narration. “Where were you?” He inquired, rubbing her shoulders. ’ I said. “There’s the classes,” said Constance, the well-informed. All the world about her seemed to be—how can one put it?—in wrappers, like a house when people leave it in the summer.
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