“You can’t imagine,” Sydney exclaimed, “that the people downstairs will be such drivelling asses as to believe piffle like that. There was already a score or more of people there, some standing up and talking together, others seated in chairs ranged along the wall. They were all stout ill-favoured men, attired in the regular jail-livery of scratch wig and snuff-coloured suit; and had all a strong family likeness to each other. He said the place had gone to wrack. The gallows is in view—I see it with all its hideous apparatus!—ough!" and shuddering violently, she placed her hands before her, as if to exclude some frightful vision from her sight. It is foolish, she murmured to herself, foolish. Lucy stood relieved that she had not messed up the solo.
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