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. So perfect was the illusion, that he could almost fancy he heard the solemn voice of the ordinary warning him that his race was nearly run, and imploring him to prepare for eternity. “I will tell you as much as this,” she continued. In this moment he could have stamped upon the Wastrel's face, and ended the affair; but all that was clean in him, chivalrous, revolted at the thought. He feared to antagonize that distinguished person. I doubt if you will receive anything for your trouble. They went on talking in the train—it seemed to her father a slight want of deference to him—and he listened and pretended to read the Times.
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