207 She romanced a dark-haired farmer a few times, having long since forgotten his name. That suggested delicacy; and yet her young body was strong and vital. Oh, I think I understand, Annabel. He poured a pinch of tobacco into his palm and sniffed. Casting a hasty glance at the old and ruinous prison belonging to the liberty of the Bishop of Winchester (whose palace formerly adjoined the river), called the Clink, which gave its name to the street, along which he walked: and noticing, with some uneasiness, the melancholy manner in which the wind whistled through its barred casements, the carpenter followed his companion down an opening to the right, and presently arrived at the water-side.
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