“But why, Lucy? Who is it 145 that you are trying to hide from? John?” Lucy closed her eyes in earnest. Thames Street was wholly impassable. He panted for a moment with unuttered replies, and then, with a scornful gesture, got up and left the cell. This last operation was so fatiguing, that for a short time he was obliged to pause to recover the use of his fingers. Coarse as were the ruffian's notions of feminine beauty, he could not be insensible to the surpassing loveliness of the fair creature, who had thus solicited his attention.
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