‘You talk together of me as if I am not there. Built and paved with stone, without beds, or any other sort of protection from the cold, this dreadful hole, accounted the most dark and dismal in the prison, was made the receptacle of such miserable wretches as could not pay the customary fees. Lucy sighed, finding it odd to switch roles as she had over the past weeks. Immediately beneath her lay Willesden,—the most charming and secluded village in the neighbourhood of the metropolis—with its scattered farm-houses, its noble granges, and its old grey church-tower just peeping above a grove of rook-haunted trees. . ’ ‘I am a very English man,’ Gerald said. He might spend the rest of his days at McClintock's in perfect security.
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