But his gloom appeared to be occasioned by remorse, rather than sorrow. “You see, dear, one IS passionately anxious for something—what is it? One wants to be CLEAN. ’ ‘That is what you thought of me. "What is it?" demanded the woollen-draper, as he returned to the table, and took up a glass. And like that gospel it meant something, something different from its phrases, something elusive, and yet something that in spite of the superficial incoherence of its phrasing, was largely essentially true. "At the Black Lion in our street," replied Jack, without hesitation. Arrived there, their first object was to seek out Davies, by whom they were conducted to the lady's retreat,—a lone habitation, situated on the outskirts of Saint George's Fields in Southwark. "What good would it do you to destroy me? For I have courage to kill myself. A skeleton was propped against the mantelpiece. That really settles about that. The children made us slaves, and the men took advantage of it.
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