Mr. "What proof have you of the truth of this story?" inquired Trenchard. “But you’re wrong. I am a thing to be used. I know not who you are; and, as I cannot discern your face, I may be doing you an injustice. I didn’t understand before that letter. She had just passed into a little antechamber beyond when she suddenly heard a faint knocking. It is a cheering reflection, that in the present prison, with its clean, wellwhitewashed, and well-ventilated wards, its airy courts, its infirmary, its improved regulations, and its humane and intelligent officers, many of the miseries of the old jail are removed. Annabel entered. C below.
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