" "Och! if he's a friend o' yours, my dear joy, there's no more to be said; and right sorry am I, I struck him. Drink this!” He poured out a glass of wine with a firm hand, and held it to her lips. She packed her backpack with a change of clothes, some rags, and her old length of piano wire. Sheppard's dress—extremely neat and clean, but simply fashioned, and of the plainest and most unpretending material,—offered nothing assailable; and her demeanour was so humble, and her looks so modest, that—if she had been ill-looking—she might, possibly, have escaped the shafts of malice preparing to be levelled against her. As soon as Blueskin was removed, Wild intimated his intention of visiting the Castle. More importantly, she had her wits. “Vee,” she said, “come home. I've left mine on the spikes of the New Prison, and must borrow yours. Wood uttered something like an imprecation.
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