“You are talking like a boy. Once over the iron spikes, Bess exhibited no reluctance to be let down on the other side of the wall. She was breathing hard, dragging for air, half in fright and half because the sudden effort had used up what little air she had managed to draw so briefly. The windows were grated, the doors barred; each room had the name as well as the appearance of a cell; and the very porter who stood at the gate, habited like a jailer, with his huge bunch of keys at his girdle, his forbidding countenance and surly demeanour seemed to be borrowed from Newgate. Why did I not realise it at once? It just shows how one should not judge by appearances. Only I feel that you all want to make life too easy for me, and I am determined to fight my own battles a little longer. But if he speaks—I fear what he may tell.
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