” She said to them, raising her head to speak, her voice unsteady. Wood grasped his companion's arm to attract his attention to this unexpected means of escape. "It's too late to carry 'em before a magistrate now, Sir Rowland; so, with your permission, I'll give 'em a night's lodging in Saint Giles's round-house. Their chit-chat stopped when they reached the bench. I can’t stand it. . “I won’t go home,” she said; “I won’t!” and she evaded the clutch of the fatherly policeman and tried to thrust herself past him in the direction of that big portal.
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