“They might do you good,” she remarked. Her white shirt was mired with a central bloodstain, his pants caked with mud. Urging his steed along Oxford Road,— as that great approach to the metropolis was then termed,—he soon passed Marylebone Lane, beyond which, with the exception of a few scattered houses, the country was completely open on the right, and laid out in pleasant fields and gardens; nor did he draw in the rein until he arrived at Tyburn-gate, where, before he turned off upon the Edgeware Road, he halted for a moment, to glance at the place of execution. "There!" she cried, laughing, "that'll teach you to lay hands upon me again. But I dare not accept it. You know I call that positively wicked. Ha! ha! ha!" "Jack!" exclaimed Thames, angrily. ” The tired woman sat still for a moment.
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