CHAPTER XXIV Spurlock's novel was a tale of regeneration. Prison was bleak without spaciousness, and pervaded by a faint, oppressive smell; and she had to wait two hours in the sullenly defiant company of two unclean women thieves before a cell could be assigned to her. The first time, I overlooked the offence; but the second time, when I had planned to break open the house of his master, the fellow who visited you to-night,—Wood, the carpenter of Wych Street,—he betrayed me. . “There, there, now. “In all fairness,” she thought to herself as she coaxed his mouth toward her left nipple. “Indeed, you could have no more faithful friend, you could find no one more anxious to serve you.
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