“I do not know any one of that name. " So saying, she retired, and Jack entered the cell. But he looked back into the hall and spoke to the sergeant who could just be seen behind him. Why should she trouble herself over that young fool, who was nothing to her; who, when he eventually sobered up, would not be able to recognize her, or if he did, as something phantasmagorical? Perhaps he should not apply the term "fool"; "unfortunate" might be the more accurate application. A hansom stopped a little way off. "Your answer, gem'men?" demanded Sharples. Awkwardly, he closed his eyes and fumbled for a kiss. Little by little, she stopped hating him.
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