” He shook her hands off almost roughly. 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. “Cheveney!” she repeated. " Mrs. Sepulchre's church, where, in compliance with an old custom, it halted. Meanwhile, the combat between Kneebone and Mrs. Fancy, as they say hereabouts!" What had aroused this open-air monologue was a small tin sign in a window. It was a letter. The clanking of chains, the grating of locks, and the rumbling of bolts must have been music in Jonathan's ears, so much pains did he take to subject himself to such sounds.
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