“Cheveney wouldn’t have anything to say about it, as it happens,” he remarked, a little grimly. Grace-church Street was entirely deserted, except by a few stragglers, whose curiosity got the better of their fears; or who, like the carpenter, were compelled to proceed along it. She was, as Capes had said, a hard young woman. There was all the knavery, and more than all the drollery of a Spanish picaroon in the laughing eyes of the English apprentice; and, with a little more warmth and sunniness of skin on the side of the latter, the resemblance between them would have been complete. You needn’t be in any doubt about it. Listen to me, Thames.
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