Losing his presence of mind, Jack quitted his hold, and dropped upon the frame. She could not explain in words why they disappointed her or that she was disappointed. The cloth was removed, and Wood, drawing the table as near the window as possible—for it was getting dusk —put on his spectacles, and opened that sacred volume from which the best consolation in affliction is derived, and left the lovers—for such they may now be fairly termed—to their own conversation. "I can never get poor Tom's last look out of my head, as he stood in the Stone-Hall at Newgate, after his irons had been knocked off, unless I manage to stupify myself somehow. " "You shall finish the bottle when the job's done," replied Jonathan.
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