" "And were I in yours," rejoined the woollen-draper, "I should be doubly apprehensive, because he's a professed friend. "How go you like your quarters, sauce-box?" asked Sharples, in a jeering tone. ‘Parbleu, the house, is it broken in the least? I do not think so. Very quietly, he added, “Oh Lucia, I’m sorry. "It's too late to carry 'em before a magistrate now, Sir Rowland; so, with your permission, I'll give 'em a night's lodging in Saint Giles's round-house. She would then partially recall the items that she had heard about him, presenting each at the angle that was the most likely to inflict pain. “You must come and see me some afternoon,” she said to him.
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