Sorry I’m a bit late the first evening. He tugged at the overly large hooded sweatshirt, which she unzipped and let fall to the ground. Jackson smiled and put on the air of a man who knows more than he cares to tell. He is in Newgate. Here, without a glimpse of daylight; visited by no one except Austin at stated intervals, who neither answered a question nor addressed a word to him; fed upon the worst diet, literally mouldy bread and ditch-water; surrounded by stone walls; with a flagged floor for his pillow, and without so much as a blanket to protect him from the death-like cold that pierced his frame,—Jack's stout heart was subdued, and he fell into the deepest dejection, ardently longing for the time when even a violent death should terminate his sufferings. The more she disentangled the lines of her situation the deeper grew her self-disgust. If ever I did meet a man I could love, I should love him”—her voice dropped again—“platonically.
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