"By means of the watchman who had the charge of me," replied Thames. ‘There’s no controlling you, is there?’ He held up his hands. \" Lucy shook her hand. She had been obliged to spend the night in that fateful bedchamber, the faithful Kimble—who had foraged at a nearby inn, bringing back a large pie and a jug of porter for his mistress—guarding the door outside. The assemblage was for the most part, if not altogether, composed of persons to whom vice in all its aspects was too familiar to present much of novelty, in whatever form it was exhibited.
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