The hardest bout I ever had was with a woman—Sally Wells, who was afterwards lagged for shoplifting. “In two days,” she reflected, “Mrs. Playing became a way of escape. “Dear me, what a relief! If I had had any nerves that man would have trampled upon them long ago. I love him!" She was weak and dizzy: from horror as much as from physical exertion. Though not much passed the middle term of life, he seemed prematurely stricken with old age. Then came the shock of the knowledge that soon he would be going upon his way, that there would be no one to depend upon her; and all the old loneliness came smothering down upon her again. He was not, it seemed, the proper stipendiary at all, and there had been some demur to his jurisdiction that had ruffled him. Drink this!” He poured out a glass of wine with a firm hand, and held it to her lips. ’ ‘Secret passage, is it?’ The sergeant seemed to brighten at this. What was his transport on perceiving that a few yards above him a light was burning. ‘I do not steal,’ declared the lady hotly. “She’s my wife,” the man muttered. "A vow," she answered,—"a vow to my dead husband.
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