“I am afraid,” she said, “that he must have a skeleton key to these rooms. Hurt beyond what he could imagine by the selfishness and pride of her forbears, whose fateful disputes had robbed her of the life she should have led, the plucky little devil had taken matters into her own hands. She had done forever with the Age of Chivalry, and her own base adaptations of its traditions to the compromising life. Thwart me, and I become your mortal enemy. The pair then descended Saffron-hill, threaded Field-lane, and, entering Holborn, passed over the little bridge which then crossed the muddy waters of Fleet-ditch, mounted Snow-hill, and soon drew in the bridle before Jonathan Wild's door.
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