” She gazed at him. ” “By God!” said Manning, making the most of the word, “I suppose it’s fate. She dared not say the word aloud, not even to herself. I’ve been waiting all my life to get out of this town. "The key," replied the widow. She knew the truth of it all right. The south or principal front, looking, down the Old Bailey, and not upon it, as is the case of the present structure, with its massive walls of roughened freestone,—in some places darkened by the smoke, in others blanched, by exposure to the weather,—its heavy projecting cornice, its unglazed doubly-grated windows, its gloomy porch decorated with fetters, and defended by an enormous iron door, had a stern and striking effect. Kneebone's habitation, the shutters of which were closed, and knocked at the door. Only a book detective could dope this out. The London backgrounds, in Bloomsbury and Marylebone, against which these people went to and fro, took on, by reason of their gray facades, their implacably respectable windows and window-blinds, their reiterated unmeaning iron railings, a stronger and stronger suggestion of the flavor of her father at his most obdurate phase, and of all that she felt herself fighting against.
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