He glanced up at Roding and met his eyes. “Where am I?” he muttered. It was comforting to have her there, snoring gently. She had been married four times: three of her husbands died of hempen fevers; and the fourth, having been twice condemned, was saved from the noose by Jonathan Wild, who not only managed to bring him off, but to obtain for him the situation of under-turnkey in Newgate. “I really had not thought about it at all,” Anna answered smiling. “Yes, I will go,” she promised, with a queer little smile. The cork came out with a loud pop, and Anna could not help wondering how it must sound to the patient little crowd outside. But give me till to-morrow—only till to-morrow—I may be able to part with him then. He was not quite sure whether, after all, he had been wise. . M.
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