"Where?" she cried. She was nearly too giddy still to answer him. There's another lad at the gate waiting for him—the same who was here just now, that Sir Rowland was speaking of, who fastened up the jewelcase for her ladyship. Prison was bleak without spaciousness, and pervaded by a faint, oppressive smell; and she had to wait two hours in the sullenly defiant company of two unclean women thieves before a cell could be assigned to her. “It was unpleasant while it lasted, but it is over —and my toasted scones are delicious. She goes out and comes home.
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