A dissipated, loose-living man. “I can’t imagine it,” said Miss Miniver. ” She hesitated and looked for a moment straight into his eyes. They seed beyond all reason. In her usual style, she interviewed him for his life and was pleased that he liked nothing more than to talk about himself. He was confined in the Middle Stone Ward, a spacious apartment, with good light and air, situated over the gateway on the western side, and allotted to him, not for his own convenience, but for that of the keepers, who, if he had been placed in a gloomier or more incommodious dungeon, would have necessarily had to share it with him. Old Kesterton, choleric-looking individual nearly opposite, will curse the cooking till he’s black in the face, but he never misses a dinner.
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