Brendon and Courtlaw who had been watching for her, met her at the door. She knew that to expect more now was like anticipating a gold-mine in the garden. ‘I do not believe you. Brendon told him the name of a distant restaurant and sprang in by her side. . The little grating in the door, the sense of constant inspection, worried her. Casting a hasty glance at the old and ruinous prison belonging to the liberty of the Bishop of Winchester (whose palace formerly adjoined the river), called the Clink, which gave its name to the street, along which he walked: and noticing, with some uneasiness, the melancholy manner in which the wind whistled through its barred casements, the carpenter followed his companion down an opening to the right, and presently arrived at the water-side. “Pretend,” he said, “that all I have said hasn’t been said.
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