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Sebastian had come to visit his old friend and former wife. She lived, he noted, very carelessly. “You are really a good Samaritan,” she declared. The lips of the mask twisted upward into a smile. “I beg your pardon,” he said, “but you appear to be a fellow countrywoman of mine, and in some distress. It's gin—a liquor you used to like. This gate, called Newgate, "as being latelier builded than the rest," continued, for upwards of three hundred years, to be used as a place of imprisonment for felons and trespassers; at the end of which time, having grown old, ruinous, and "horribly loathsome," it was rebuilt and enlarged by the executors of the renowned Sir Richard Whittington, the Lord Mayor of London: whence it afterwards obtained amongst a certain class of students, whose examinations were conducted with some strictness at the Old Bailey, and their highest degrees taken at Hyde-park-corner, the appellation of Whittington's College, or, more briefly, the Whit.
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