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. His fellow-prisoners nicknamed him the gallows-provider, from a habit he had of picking out all those who were destined to the gibbet. “It was poison—why not?” she answered. Suddenly remembering Kimble, her heart thudded with excitement. '" "An ingenious device," laughed Gay. "There he is!" "I fear not," said her father, with a doubtful shake of the head. "I lost a very valuable one some time ago. Better get a dress.
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