” Lucy welcomed her. "Well," she said, in reply, "I may have done Jack an injustice. Their idea of maidenly innocence was just a blank white—the sort of flat white that doesn’t shine. It was a sort of cooking-room, with an immense fire-place flanked by a couple of cauldrons, and was called Jack Ketch's Kitchen, because the quarters of persons executed for treason were there boiled by the hangman in oil, pitch, and tar, before they were affixed on the city gates, or on London Bridge. Nothing seemed to be amiss. And yet—I love you. My lads," he continued, addressing the partners; "when you've finished this job give that fellow a fresh set of darbies.
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