“It’s your own fault, you’ve nobody to blame but yourself.”
“Don’t go. Pray, don’t go.”
“What do you want?”
“I’m not well—want to see the doctor.”
“You are all right. Don’t think to gammon me again.”
“It isn’t gammon. I pledge you my word that it’s the solemn truth. May I see the governor?”
“He’s not in the way just now, and I don’t suppose he would see you if he were. I am sorry for you, and thought better things of you. You’ve had every indulgence.”
“I know it, and am grateful for it.”
The warder laughed.
“Don’t jeer at my misfortunes. May I have a light?”