She hesitated about her name, and, being prompted, gave it at last as Ann Veronica Smith, 107A, Chancery Lane. The train, meantime, had passed Marylebone Lane, when it again paused for a moment, at Jack's request, near the door of a public-house called the City of Oxford. She treaded down the hall swiftly but stopped abruptly when she heard a voice in back of her. "Take courage, man; it is only Quilt Arnold. "I call this ere crib the Little-Ease, arter the runaway prentices' cells in Guildhall. All this torrent of misleading, spurious stuff that pours from the press. It's almost worth while being sent to prison to have the pleasure of escaping. " "She? My God, the pity of it! She knows nothing of life.
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