"Oh! nothin' partickler—mere curossity," replied Terence. He urged his conductors to a quicker pace to get out of sight of the distressing spectacle, and even felt relieved when he was shut out from it and the execrations of the mob by the walls of the little prison. The one fault, indeed, of this school of fiction for him was that it had rather a light way with parental rights. She thought of the marvellous beauty of skin, and all the delightfulness of living texture. The place was gloomy, with its darkly panelled walls, but it was sparsely furnished. He stopped in mid-sentence, and Ann Veronica opened the door for her aunt. But she must stop him getting away.
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