"I could almost forgive the wretch the injury he did me in depriving me of my poor dear wife—No, not quite that," he added, a little confused. She tucked her stick under her arm and re-read Manning’s letter. A sprinkling of callow youths, and a couple of pronounced young Jews, who were talking loudly together in some unintelligible jargon of the City. “But you do not know,” she whispered, “whether I am a married woman or not. Their example was immediately imitated by the officers, constables, javelin men, and other attendants; and nothing was to be heard but shouts of laughter and jesting,—nothing seen but the passing of glasses, and the emptying of foaming jugs. She and Courtlaw drove homewards together.
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