My name is Ferringhall—Sir John Ferringhall. It was so easy to forget the imminent threats of being discovered during times of peace. He heard the woman talking again. One or two of the tables were occupied by groups of fat frowzy women in flat caps, with rings on their thumbs, and baskets by their sides; and no one who had listened for a single moment to their coarse language and violent abuse of each other, would require to be told they were fish-wives from Billingsgate. And now—Dear! Dear! The dayspring from on high hath visited me. ‘But I don’t trust you an inch. After an affectionate parting with Winifred, Thames was conducted by the carpenter to his sleeping apartment—a comfortable cosy chamber; such a one, in short, as can only be met with in the country, with its dimity-curtained bed, its sheets fragrant of lavender, its clean white furniture, and an atmosphere breathing of freshness.
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