“The life of a private secretary is positively one of slavery. “It isn’t a joke,” she said. "I guess who you mean," rejoined Shotbolt. She had not seen Ramage for ten or eleven days, and she was quite ready for a gossip with him. Sheppard was no sooner alone than she fell upon her knees by the side of the couch, and poured forth her heart in prayer. Shotbolt, the head turnkey of Clerkenwell Prison, and Mr. Anna, who was disposed to be sharply critical, could find no fault with it. His tongue was more ready, his wit more keen than usual.
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