" "Why, what'll you do?" demanded the turnkey. Uttering a terrible imprecation, Jonathan snatched up the link, and hastily descended the stairs, leaving the Jew behind him. He tries hard to conceal it, but he cannot. Now the baby’s bright May eyes peered up at her intently. At the corner of Liquorpond Street stood the old Hampstead coach-office; and, on the night in question, a knot of hostlers, waggoners, drivers, and stable-boys was collected in the yard. I think it inadvisable—I don’t want an intimacy to spring up between you and a man of that type.
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