"Nor any one else, I suspect," answered Ireton, winking significantly. “I wonder if there are any good women really. Most of the time, he was hunting and he returned at night. And Lady Trafford having been carried down stairs, and placed within it, the postboy drove off, at a rapid pace for Barnet. Perhaps once it had desired some other human being intolerably. When he awoke, it was late in the day; but though he heard voices outside, and now and then caught a glimpse of a face peeping at him through the iron grating over the door, no one entered the prison, or held any communication with him.
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