Casting a hasty glance at the old and ruinous prison belonging to the liberty of the Bishop of Winchester (whose palace formerly adjoined the river), called the Clink, which gave its name to the street, along which he walked: and noticing, with some uneasiness, the melancholy manner in which the wind whistled through its barred casements, the carpenter followed his companion down an opening to the right, and presently arrived at the water-side. . "What's this here kinchen in for?" asked Terence, as he and Quilt strode along, with Thames between them. Yes!" she screamed, "these are his father's features! It is—it is my son!" "Mother!" cried Thames; "are you, indeed, my mother?" "I am, indeed—my own sweet boy!" she sobbed, pressing him tenderly to her breast. “You are talking like a boy. Then, quite insensibly, her queenliness had declined. She saw her aunt in tears, her father white-faced and hard hit. ‘Gammon. She said there was no other way to get them to stop their constant screaming. The clock struck half-past ten. She always managed to get back to the bungalow before he did. It was a long walk she had to undertake, even if she had endured no previous fatigue, but feeble as she was, it was almost more than she could accomplish. I was among the common herd in the place below, but I took good care to see you. I will give you a broad free life. CHAPTER XXII.
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