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"Aw Come. "Halloa, widow!" shouted a rough voice from below, "where the devil are you?" Mrs. ‘Don’t put me at the necessity of marrying the abominable little wretch. You know they say, as, indeed, I have just quoted already, that all bad poetry is written in a state of emotion, but I have no doubt that this is true of bad offers of marriage. I think that there is no better friend for a girl than a man rather older than herself. The lamp was not yet lit, and in the dim light he bent forward as though trying to look into her averted face. Built and paved with stone, without beds, or any other sort of protection from the cold, this dreadful hole, accounted the most dark and dismal in the prison, was made the receptacle of such miserable wretches as could not pay the customary fees.
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