Bit priggish, isn’t it? And if he only knew it—so absurd. A stout wooden shutter, opening inwardly, being removed, disclosed a grating of iron bars. She came in now with an air of reserved solicitude. ‘How did you guess?’ ‘I guessed as soon as you said this was your house. Besides these, there was a sturdylooking fellow, whom he instantly recognised as the honest blacksmith who had freed him from his irons at Tottenham. He looked melancholy enough, it is true. It won’t even know whether to be scandalized at us or forgiving. "You are complimentary, Sir Rowland," returned the other, with a grim smile.
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