You are your own Heaven and your own Hell, Lucy. Casting a hasty glance at the old and ruinous prison belonging to the liberty of the Bishop of Winchester (whose palace formerly adjoined the river), called the Clink, which gave its name to the street, along which he walked: and noticing, with some uneasiness, the melancholy manner in which the wind whistled through its barred casements, the carpenter followed his companion down an opening to the right, and presently arrived at the water-side. “Women are mocked,” she said. ’ She pronounced the name with painstaking accuracy, Gerald noticed. Yesterday!—who cared? To-morrow!—who knew? "Porpoise," she said, touching his hand. ’ He stopped suddenly, dismay creeping into his face. He gripped the window-sill behind him.
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