’ ‘A convent?’ echoed Gerald with interest. Arrived beneath an aperture in the broken roof, he was preparing to pass through it, when he observed a little heap of tiles upon the floor, which appeared to have been recently dislodged. The fire—if there was any in him—never made headway against this insistant demand to know the significance of these manifold inward agitations. "Spring!—I never knew any. Sheppard. The pair then descended Saffron-hill, threaded Field-lane, and, entering Holborn, passed over the little bridge which then crossed the muddy waters of Fleet-ditch, mounted Snow-hill, and soon drew in the bridle before Jonathan Wild's door. Lucy was filled with happiness, it was her third Christmas at the Becks. I——” The door was thrown open. " "Who's lost?" demanded Ireton.
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