The Supper at Mr. "You hay'n't hurt your arm, I trust, my dear?" he added, anxiously. At sight of his wan features, she forgot the urgency of her need for a moment, and fell to her knees at his bedside, placing her hands on his slack ones where they lay on the soiled coverlet. It seemed to her that it was her duty to get up and clamor to go home to her room, to protest against his advances as an insult. "Granted it were as you say, Jack," said Wild;—"and I sha'n't take the trouble to contradict you—the estates would be yours hereafter. It made her laugh, which in turn made him laugh. On the left there were doors communicating with the King's Bench Ward and the Stone Ward, two large holds on the Master Debtors' side.
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