. . He did not know what her game was, although he had a shrewd suspicion that she had been co-opted into it by her supposed husband, the soi-disant Valade. The present divinity of the cellar was a comely middle-aged dame, almost as stout, and quite as shrill-voiced, as the Billingsgate fish-wives above-mentioned, Mrs. Maggot, who promptly interposed her cudgel. ’ Mrs Sindlesham’s mouth dropped open. Then she spoke, with a carelessness he instantly suspected. " "Well, it's mighty fine of you to break your journey in this fashion—for someone you don't know, a passer-by. But I do not even care if I am absurd.
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