She knew the story only imperfectly, and followed it now with a passionate and deepening interest. It tore her apart. That a longing of hers should be realized in this strange fashion was difficult to believe: it vaguely suggested something of a trap. The assassination, as you call it, was, obviously, the vengeance of a kinsman of the injured lady, who no doubt was of good family, upon her seducer. "I suspect our friend has thought better of it, and won't come," he remarked. "I call this ere crib the Little-Ease, arter the runaway prentices' cells in Guildhall.
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