“What do you think of that?” he asked. He stood upon the threshold, dangling his eye-glasses in his fingers, stolid, imperturbable, mildly interrogative. Listen to me, Winifred. This is a tale of two young fools. Manning as they talked. The hymnal lyrics had never stirred her; she had memorized and sung them parrotwise. Startled by this circumstance, he looked around, and perceived that the trap-door,—which has been mentioned as communicating with a secret staircase,—was open. ’ “Crude, I admit. Trodger was lying in wait at the bottom of the narrow stairs. The hangman is always an object of peculiar detestation to the mob, a tremendous hooting hailed his appearance, and both staves and swords were required to preserve order. But, you see, she HAS to lie up.
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