I happened to look up for a minute, and saw one of the ladies looking steadily at us, and oh! what a pitying look there was in her face.

In a moment I saw it was Miss Falkland, and, by the change that came into her face, that she knew me again, altered as I was.

I wondered how she could have known me.

I was a different-looking chap from when she had seen me last.

With a beastly yellow-gray suit of prison clothes, his face scraped smooth every day, like a fresh-killed pig, and the look of a free man gone out of his face for ever--how any woman, gentle or simple, ever can know a man in gaol beats me.