He stopped before her suddenly. “Dear husband,” she murmured. "It is with no small concern," writes an anonymous historian of Newgate, "that I am obliged to observe that the women in every ward of this prison are exceedingly worse than the worst of the men not only in respect to their mode of living, but more especially as to their conversation, which, to their great shame, is as profane and wicked as hell itself can possibly be. ‘You think my father would not have married Suzanne if he had known? Me, I do not agree. The boy was all conscience, and he suffered through this conscience to such lengths that the law would be impotent to add anything. Remember! not a word!" So saying, he huddled the mantle over Wood's shoulders, dashed the lantern to the ground, and extinguished the light. In a second the glass lay shattered upon the carpet.
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