Their chit-chat stopped when they reached the bench. They went on talking in the train—it seemed to her father a slight want of deference to him—and he listened and pretended to read the Times. We Spurlocks take our medicine, standing. Up to this moment, hopes had been entertained of a respite, strong representations in his favour having been made in the highest quarter; but now that his fate seemed sealed, the curiosity of the sight-seeing public to behold him was redoubled. All this muddle to placate his conscience! "Here—quick!" McClintock thrust a cigar into Spurlock's hand. Parbleu, but she was a fool.
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