But these crop-ears..." He paused to peer into the pitcher on the table.

"Water! Pah! A scurvy lot, these psalm-mongers!" "Merciful Heaven! Have you no thought for your end ?" "Every thought, good youth, every thought, and I would fain prepare me for the morning's dance in a more jovial and hearty fashion than Old Noll will afford me--damn him!" Kenneth drew back in horror.

His old dislike for Crispin was all aroused by this indecent flippancy at such a time.

Just then the thought of spending the night in his company almost effaced the horror of the gallows whereof he had been a prey.
Noting the movement, Crispin laughed disdainfully, and walked towards the window.

It was a small opening, by which two iron bars, set crosswise, defied escape.