All the turnkeys rose to salute the thief-taker, whose habitually-sullen countenance looked gloomier than usual. Such of his features as were visible were of coarse mould. Fine but strong lines marked the profile: that would speak for courage and resolution. A lean young man in spectacles pursued her for some time, crying “Courage! Courage!” Somebody threw a dab of mud at her, and some of it got down her neck. Further on, there was a small chandler's shop, where Jack observed an old woman seated at the counter, attended by a little girl. Thank you for walking me home the other day. Alban's to-night. “My sister,” she murmured, “is so independent. CHAPTER V.
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