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It had rained during the night, and the patch-work pavement was greasy with mud. Their faces were masks of abject horror, sunken and shriveled, their cheekbones protruding. Ann Veronica considered her answer. On the right of the postern against the wall was affixed a small grating, sustaining the debtor's box; and any pleasure which the passerby might derive from contemplating the splendid structure above described was damped at beholding the pale faces and squalid figures of the captives across the bars of its strongly-grated windows. It was he who saw them first coming down the room—Annabel in a wonderful white satin gown in front, and Sir John stiff, unbending, disapproving, bringing up the rear. Marvel, in a tone intended to be consolatory. "The worst house in the neighbourhood—the constant haunt of reprobates and thieves," groaned Wood. "You'll never return.
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