Have you seen much of her lately?” “Nothing at all,” he answered. The rooks were cawing amid the boughs, and all nature appeared awaking to happiness. Then there was Tom Jarrot, the hackney-coachman, who was pitched off the box against yonder curbstone, and broke his leg. Yet he was in a state of hopeless bewilderment. Opposite the gallows was an open gallery, or scaffolding, like the stand at a racecourse, which, on state occasions, was crowded with spectators. “I just wanted you to see that the time will come when I must leave you, and the time is coming soon. I gather you wish to go up in some fantastic get-up, wrapped about in your opera cloak, and that after the festivities you propose to stay with these friends of yours, and without any older people in your party, at an hotel.
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