“My dear Annabel,” she said, “this is delightful, but I thought that it was forbidden. Never mind. Bravo!—the best cly-faker of 'em all couldn't have done it better. After venting his wrath in the wildest manner, and uttering the most dreadful execrations, Jonathan retired to another part of the prison, where he passed the night in consultation with the governor, as to the best means of conveying the prisoner securely to Tyburn. Lady Lescelles, graceful, very fashionably but quietly dressed, leaned back and watched her with shrewd kindly eyes. In this moment he could have stamped upon the Wastrel's face, and ended the affair; but all that was clean in him, chivalrous, revolted at the thought. Twenty-one, twenty-two.
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