] CHAPTER VIII Slowly Ruth entered her own room. ‘You will not believe any of my very clever lies. A nurse came hurrying up. ‘A word, if you please, my friend. The doctor here says he can get you aboard to-morrow night. I shall count it a privilege. This gate, called Newgate, "as being latelier builded than the rest," continued, for upwards of three hundred years, to be used as a place of imprisonment for felons and trespassers; at the end of which time, having grown old, ruinous, and "horribly loathsome," it was rebuilt and enlarged by the executors of the renowned Sir Richard Whittington, the Lord Mayor of London: whence it afterwards obtained amongst a certain class of students, whose examinations were conducted with some strictness at the Old Bailey, and their highest degrees taken at Hyde-park-corner, the appellation of Whittington's College, or, more briefly, the Whit. ‘But it is idiot. Let this be a caution to you in future—with whom, and about what you deal. See how he gets on, father," he added, appealing to Wood: "the box seems to grow under his hands. Do you mind talking to some one else. " At the door of this tavern, which was situated on the left of the street, not more than a hundred yards distant from the church, the bell of which began to toll as soon as the procession came in sight, the cart drew up, and the whole cavalcade halted.
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