"I can't," answered Blueskin. As soon as he had gained his feet, he glanced round the bare blank walls of the cell, and, oppressed by the musty, close atmosphere, exclaimed, "I'll let a little fresh air into this dungeon. You must have repented a little, or you would not have done that. Then Anna spoke more seriously than usual. The crowner's 'quest sat on her yesterday—and if she hadn't been proved out of her mind, she would have been buried at four lane-ends. She gasped with pain, but she did not release her grip. This vessel is now in the river, off Wapping. She throws a sort of spell over us all. And yet, often when alone, he wondered: had McClintock been wrong, or had she ceased to care in that way? The possibility that she no longer cared should have filled him with unalloyed happiness, whereas it depressed him, cut the natural vanity of youth into shreds and tatters. She was chic, distinguished, unusual.
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