CHAPTER XXXII. She entered quietly and padded up to her shared bedroom. Sheppard in a troubled voice, "that if I lost my child, I should lose all I have left in the world. However this may be, such was the ill report of the place that few passed along the Old Bailey without bestowing a glance of fearful curiosity at its dingy walls, and wondering what was going on inside them; while fewer still, of those who paused at the door, read, without some internal trepidation, the formidable name—inscribed in large letters on its bright brass-plate—of JONATHAN WILD. At last, he got into a lane, but had not proceeded far when he was again alarmed by the sound of a horse's tread. Ennison,” she exclaimed, “is that really you?” There was no sign of embarrassment in her manner. "That's a glorious reward. ” He chuckled, wincing at the thought. The joy of being loved thrilled her as nothing before had ever done, a curious abstract joy which had nothing in it at that moment of regret or even pity. It would hurt no one. She, having all the confidence in the world, ripped off an end and drew out the contents—a letter and a check. “There are policemen—and buses. One or two of the tables were occupied by groups of fat frowzy women in flat caps, with rings on their thumbs, and baskets by their sides; and no one who had listened for a single moment to their coarse language and violent abuse of each other, would require to be told they were fish-wives from Billingsgate.
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