He was afraid if he stayed that he would make a fool of himself. The mummies were tossed into the collection. Sheppard looked fixedly at him, as if she would penetrate the gloomy depth of his soul. It had been her home for hundreds of years. Casting a hasty glance at the old and ruinous prison belonging to the liberty of the Bishop of Winchester (whose palace formerly adjoined the river), called the Clink, which gave its name to the street, along which he walked: and noticing, with some uneasiness, the melancholy manner in which the wind whistled through its barred casements, the carpenter followed his companion down an opening to the right, and presently arrived at the water-side.
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