“We don’t let to ladies,” they said. ‘Madwoman,’ he screamed back, as he climbed over the next pew, eyes darting down briefly to check for his sword. ” A fair-haired young Englishman looked up from the depths of his easy chair. He could not see these two shrinking misses capering about in a nun’s habit and brandishing a defiant pistol. By this time, she had so far succeeded in calming herself, that she answered the greetings of the neighbours whom she encountered on her way to the sacred edifice—if sorrowfully, still composedly. Jonathan Wild must have stolen it from her.
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