You can’t do that sort of thing unless you do it over religion, and there’s no religion in me—of that sort—worth a rap. A hollow plunge, echoed and re-echoed by the walls, marked his descent into the water. 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. What right had a young woman to possess the scarring and intimate knowledge of that dreg of human society, the beachcomber? CHAPTER II Ah Cum lived at No.
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