The Iron Bar 397 XVIII. The red glare fell upon the slimy brick-work, and tinged the inky waters below. Only her ungloved fingers, and the arms in their long tight sleeves as she held the heavy gun aloft, bore any sign of stiffness. “My dear Vee!” Her voice became very low. “Where?” “To that ball. Besides these, there was a sturdylooking fellow, whom he instantly recognised as the honest blacksmith who had freed him from his irons at Tottenham. The appearance of the new-comer was extremely prepossessing; and, after his trepidation had a little subsided, Wood began to regard him with some degree of interest.
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