The prison gates were besieged like the entrance of a booth at a fair; and the Condemned Hold where he was confined, and to which visitors were admitted at the moderate rate of a guinea a-head, had quite the appearance of a showroom. She dropped beside the chair, sat cross-legged, and laughed at the futile jade-coloured wall. His fellow-prisoners nicknamed him the gallows-provider, from a habit he had of picking out all those who were destined to the gibbet. Her state of mind would have seemed altogether discreditable to her grandmother. "His life—or yours?" "No one shall harm you more, my dear," cried Lady Trafford. Husbands and wives, young lovers, and mothers with strollers thronged in the streets, all savoring the fine cool weather. She felt like Snow White in a secret forest house populated by dwarves. . Ramage looked at her for a long and discriminating interval without speaking.
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