Spurling was no longer allowed to visit him; he was again loaded with irons; fastened by an enormous horse-padlock to a staple in the floor; and only allowed to take repose in a chair. “Let’s go in here. “You had only to ask——” “Do you think,” Anna interrupted, with a note of passion trembling also in her tone, “that I would have taken alms from Sir John, the man to whom I had lied for your sake. ‘I have no idea. Perhaps you'll call that charity: I call it defeating the ends of justice. The thought passed through his mind even as he started to cross the terrace at a jogtrot, moving to head her off.
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