. This was done, and Austin returned with a crest-fallen look to the table. ’ A strangled sob escaped her as his thumb dug cruelly into the soft flesh of her wrist. It was a sort of cooking-room, with an immense fire-place flanked by a couple of cauldrons, and was called Jack Ketch's Kitchen, because the quarters of persons executed for treason were there boiled by the hangman in oil, pitch, and tar, before they were affixed on the city gates, or on London Bridge. Imagine her, putting herself to all this delay and inconvenience for a young wastrel she did not know and who, the moment he got on his feet, would doubtless pass out of her life without so much as Thank you! And it was ten to one that she would not comprehend the ingratitude. "I loved you," replied Jack,—"don't start—it is over now—I loved you, I say, as a boy.
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