Then he hovered undecidedly for some seconds with his hands in his pockets and his mouth puckered to a whistle before he turned to go home by the Avenue. While this was effected, intelligence was brought that a formidable mob was pouring down Field Lane, the end of which was barricaded. “Yet it is my last evening, and I think —if you are sure that you would like to have me—that I will risk it. Listening at one of the doors leading to the Master Debtors' side, he heard a loud voice chanting a Bacchanalian melody, and the boisterous laughter that accompanied the song, convinced him that no suspicion was entertained in this quarter. She wondered if the second part would overcome his objections? Several times the words had rushed to her tongue, to find her tongue paralysed.
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