A young man turned to pay the cabman. Hearing the noise of the scuffle, the tapstress, fancying it was Jack making an effort to escape, in spite of the remonstrances of the executioner, threw open the wicket. The Master of the Mint was accompanied by another gentleman almost as portly as himself, and quite as deliberate in his movements. The boy would never know just how lucky he was. “The Vote is the symbol of everything,” said Miss Brett. She thought of the marvellous beauty of skin, and all the delightfulness of living texture. Why, that boy could hide for thirty years—without the girl.
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