Sheppard looked fixedly at him, as if she would penetrate the gloomy depth of his soul. He was staring at her, openly gaping. “I suppose things have changed?” she said. The south or principal front, looking, down the Old Bailey, and not upon it, as is the case of the present structure, with its massive walls of roughened freestone,—in some places darkened by the smoke, in others blanched, by exposure to the weather,—its heavy projecting cornice, its unglazed doubly-grated windows, its gloomy porch decorated with fetters, and defended by an enormous iron door, had a stern and striking effect. I am afraid, Anna, just a little afraid, that in Paris I and my friends here might seem a trifle advanced.
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