He guided himself between her legs. He picked up the broken fiddle and beckoned. ‘I allow anyone in. He was now almost driven to despair. Good riddance. . Get the men back to their posts. He wondered why she thought love made people happy, and began to talk of the smilax and pinks that adorned the table. The cultivated indifference, which was part of the armour of his little world fell away from him. In consequence of the encouragement thus offered to dishonesty, and the security afforded to crime, this quarter of the Borough of Southwark was accounted (at the period of our narrative) the grand receptacle of the superfluous villainy of the metropolis. Something in his smile, in the cynical suggestiveness of his deferential tone, maddened her. He shall expiate his offences on the gibbet. At this juncture, Sir Cecil and his followers appeared at the threshold. A bad one in a rough-and-tumble; all the water-front tricks.
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