"I am. It is I who am persecuted by the man who calls himself your husband. While he was thus occupied, Thames, prompted by an unaccountable feeling of curiosity, took up the penknife which the other had just used, and examined the haft. Stanley, consenting with dignity. “I expected you this morning,” he said. ” He stood before the door. “Slavery! Downtroddenness! When I think of it I feel all over boot marks— men’s boots. Taking his way along East Smithfield, mounting Little Tower-hill, and threading the Minories and Hounsditch, he arrived without accident or molestation, at Moorfields.
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