Remember what the conjuror said. Her safety lay in pretense—that what she saw was as a tale twice told. “You doubted me?” She joked. Accordingly, when she arrived at the Shovels, with which, as an old haunt in her bygone days of wretchedness she was well acquainted, instead of entering the principal apartment, which she saw at a glance was crowded with company of both sexes, she turned into a small room on the left of the bar, and, as an excuse for so doing, called for something to drink. I could not have spoken to her. She could read that Martin had a crush on her and was perhaps even going to try and challenge John as he was the bold sort.
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