But there's a person in the hall—a very odd sort of man—waiting to see him, who won't be sent away. “You ARE a female thing at bottom,” he admitted. ‘What do we do now?’ Gerald took a pace towards the girl. The chapel was again crowded with visitors, and every eye—even that of Jonathan Wild who had come thither to deride him,—was fixed upon him. She had not been sufficiently prompted in relation to the ways of caravansaries; but her mind had been alert and receptive. He had not taken many steps when he perceived Quilt Arnold in the upper gallery, with a lamp in his hand.
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