Hastening along the passage he came to the sixth door. ” “But Italy—” “Italy’s for a good girl,” he said, and laid his hand for a moment on her shoulder. The turning of the key startled her, but she did not see how she could make an objection. He carried a cane and a silk hat with a mourning-band in one gray-gloved hand; his frock-coat and trousers were admirable; his handsome face, his black mustache, his prominent brow conveyed an eager solicitude. His breakfast despatched, which he ate with a wolfish appetite, he walked over to Newgate, chuckling as he went at the consternation which his appearance would create amongst the turnkeys.
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