He was placed in a coach, handcuffed, and heavily fettered, and guarded by a vast posse of officers to Temple Bar, where a fresh relay of constables escorted him to Westminster. The old lady clearly read his state of mind, for the apparently irrepressible dimple peeped out. It did not cheer or fortify him with false courage and recklessness; it simply enveloped him in a mist of unreality. Was the situation so desperate that he could not pack his best things? She had packed lightly, not wanting to weigh down the carriage they would travel in. She was very satisfied about this. He saw the colossal selfishness of his act; but he could not beg off on the plea of abnormality. I could never make you understand. ‘I’m not going to arrest you, young Jack—yet. ” Sydney looked at her doubtfully. It isn’t as though I haven’t done well.
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