’ ‘I was called in, ma’am, to catch a French spy—at least, that is what Pottiswick thought. Not alone with her, that’s sure. Spurling, formerly, it may be remembered, the hostess of the Dark House at Queenhithe,—whence wine, ale, and brandy of inferior quality were dispensed, in false measures, and at high prices, throughout the prison, which in noise and debauchery rivalled, if it did not surpass, the lowest tavern. Here was an experienced man of the world, her friend, who evidently took a great interest in this supreme topic and was willing to give her the benefit of his experiences! Why should not she be at her ease with him? Why should not she know things? It is hard enough anyhow for a human being to learn, she decided, but it is a dozen times more difficult than it need be because of all this locking of the lips and thoughts. He was even a little jealous of Sebastian. Sheila pounded the kitchen table, causing the bell jar with the silk flowers to tip over and roll to the floor.
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