Every man in her life had betrayed her one way or another. "Thames!—Thames!" cried Winifred, rushing to the window. But what the deuce! He was human; he was a machine only when on the hunt. What can she be? The wife of a country tradesman, or a duchess? And such a meek little husband too. Some years ago, in 1715, just before the Rebellion, I was rash enough to league myself with the Jacobite party, and by Wild's machinations got clapped into Newgate, whence I was glad to escape with my head upon my shoulders. The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service. "Who've you got with you?" demanded the Amazon, boldly. It's almost worth while being sent to prison to have the pleasure of escaping. Friday was not a big dinner night at the Beck house.
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