Beyond the steps was a pole-chair in readiness. Suddenly the Wastrel took hold of the edge and flung the table aside. “Come,” he said, “you can’t be meaning to bury yourself. Gold-handled, too. Nor, indeed, did she want to refuse. "If you thought that, why did you give me this job?"—his voice faint and thick. She pulled at his tee shirt again, wishing to feel his naked chest upon hers. It was the bitterest moment of her life. They were sitting alone, Lucy. By Wild's command the prisoner was taken to the Condemned Hold, whither he was followed by the whole posse of officers and by the partners; two of whom carried large hammers and two the fetters.
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