“What the hell. “This girl—she’s really a very charming, frank person—had had her imagination fired, so she told me, by a school performance of Romeo and Juliet. She jumped up at once, caught up a leather clutch containing notebooks, a fat textbook, and a chocolate-and-yellow-covered pamphlet, and leaped neatly from the carriage, only to discover that the train was slowing down and that she had to traverse the full length of the platform past it again as the result of her precipitation. The mob now directed their attention to Newgate; and, from their threats, appeared determined to fire it. It was no wonder, there was no money to buy food for the house. ’ It was the Press who forced the identity upon me.
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