’ He turned to the lodgekeeper behind him, whose shocked fear had given place to a direful frown. An ill-lined purse is a poor recompense for the risk I have run. "If Jack would come to my house, I'd contrive to hide him," remarked a buxom dame. If only he had known it, sympathy was almost entirely with him. They were childless and servantless, and they had reduced simple living to the finest of fine arts. He was a philosopher. The poor wretch, driven by desperation to the commission of a crime which her soul abhors, is no more beyond the hope of reformation than she is without the pale of mercy.
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