156 He followed, “Um, is it okay if we talk in private for a few minutes somewhere?” Cathy was quick to reply. He returned her impressive greeting almost mechanically. "You're wanted. " The spinster had no retort to offer such directness. Every so often a wall of water, thin and jadecoloured, would rise up over the port bow, hesitate, and fall smacking amidships. The windows were grated, the doors barred; each room had the name as well as the appearance of a cell; and the very porter who stood at the gate, habited like a jailer, with his huge bunch of keys at his girdle, his forbidding countenance and surly demeanour seemed to be borrowed from Newgate. The windows were small, and strongly grated, looking, in front, on Kendrick Yard, and, at the back, upon the spacious burial-ground of Saint Giles's Church. Kimble was clearly a plain-spoken fellow. . "I wanted you to know.
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