" The Gate, which crossed Newgate Street, had a wide arch for carriages, and a postern, on the north side, for footpassengers. Do not let her think worse of me than I deserve,—or even so ill. He said. Dizzily, she grabbed at the mantel for support and, resting her head on her hands, paid no heed to a betraying sound behind her—until an unexpected arm encircled her. "He shan't go," cried Edgeworth Bess, holding him by the other hand. you walking home?\" 3 She paused, stunned. Only she hadn’t. He got out in much the same way from the Gatehouse,—stole the keys, and passed through a room where I was sitting half-asleep in a chair. “What have I done, Miss Pellissier?” he pleaded. ’ She turned, her eyes narrowed. "Your gratitude will vanish with your danger. Even now I do not understand. “You no longer belong to Gianfrancesco.
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