“And now,” she said, splintering the surviving piece of coal into indignant flame-spurting fragments with one dexterous blow, “what am I to do? “I’m in a hole!—mess is a better word, expresses it better. “We must go. “I was never so clear in all my life as I have been in this business. ’ She tossed her head. Me, I prefer to forget that I have such a father. His exploits and escapes are in every body's mouth. And then the fetters, which were still upon his legs:—how was he to get rid of them? Tired and dispirited, he still wandered on. The cloth was removed, and Wood, drawing the table as near the window as possible—for it was getting dusk —put on his spectacles, and opened that sacred volume from which the best consolation in affliction is derived, and left the lovers—for such they may now be fairly termed—to their own conversation. On this side was a razor with which a son had murdered his father; the blade notched, the haft crusted with blood: on that, a bar of iron, bent, and partly broken, with which a husband had beaten out his wife's brains. “Can you give me any information as to this affair?” he asked. She covered herself with her arms. Before he could make the thrust, however, he was seized behind by Ireton, who flung himself upon him.
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