" "On that night, you first met me, love," said Edgeworth Bess, endeavouring to take his hand, which he coldly withdrew. The hangman is always an object of peculiar detestation to the mob, a tremendous hooting hailed his appearance, and both staves and swords were required to preserve order. He yielded his place and struck instead with his tongue. The air was pungent and leaden. If he died, here in this hotel, who would care? Or if she died, who would care? A queer desire blossomed in her heart: to go to him, urge him to see the folly of trying to forget. " The foregoing conversation, having been conducted throughout in a low tone, and apart, had not reached the ears of Mr. Her cheeks burned for a moment or two when she reached the street, although she held her head upright and walked blithely, even humming to herself fragments of an old French song.
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