’ Gerald infused sympathy into his voice, and deliberately addressed himself to Madame. His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself. It was a face that matched her body, so pure and beautiful that any man would have killed for her. He was in evening dress: swallow-tailed coat and white tie. The crowd now dispersed amongst the fields, and thousands of persons were seen hurrying towards Tyburn as fast as their legs could carry them, leaping over hedges, and breaking down every impediment in their course. The costume of this personage was somewhat singular, and might have passed for a masquerading habit, had not the imperturbable gravity of his demeanour forbidden any such supposition. I had no idea she could go so fast. Kneebone," she added, drawing up her magnificent figure to its full height, and making the heavy cudgel whistle through the air, "look to yourself. We were going at a mad pace. Montague Hill. Even there a woman never gets a fair chance. But it seemed that their presence was not even suspected.
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