I was Annabel the rake, ‘Alcide’ of the music halls. "Unless you have eaten a Syrian orange," he was always saying, "you have only a rudimentary idea of what an orange is. Still he had a decent look, and decidedly the air of one well-to-do in the world. At the least, the tales had the ability to make her forget where she was; which was something in their favour. I have tried not to tell you—tried to be simply your friend. The time was the 26th of November, 1703: the place, the Mint in Southwark. In the general survey of the prison, taken in the preceding chapter, but little was said of the Lodge. "I declare you throw me into an ague. Presently she became aware of footsteps hurrying after her, and glanced back to find Miss Klegg, a little out of breath, in pursuit. "Oh, I've read that!" Spurlock had heard distinctly enough all of this odd conversation; but until the spinster's reference to the family album, no phrase had been sufficient in strength of attraction to break the trend of his own unhappy thoughts.
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