And opposite to him, with a book in his hand,—but it couldn't be a prayer-book,—sat Jonathan Wild, in a parson's cassock and band. She had felt deserving of the punishment, as he had been mainly concerned that she would be killed by accidentally falling into the pit, but it was a terrible insult. ’ ‘Was it?’ Her lips twitched. ” She disengaged herself from him and went out of the room with a grave, preoccupied expression. The immense disillusionment that awaited him! The devastating disillusionment! She had a vague desire to run after him, to state her case to him, to wring some understanding from him of what life was to her. She calls us her guests, but in reality we are her prisoners. She did not have to investigate that his door was locked. . ’ ‘You may arrest me later. "Not a syllable," replied Wild. Before he could draw in the rein, his steed—startled apparently by some object undistinguishable by the rider,—swerved with such suddenness as to unseat him, and precipitate him on the ground.
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