Diane Vorsack clicked her tongue in a “tsk”. The effort to maintain her self-control was almost superhuman. And the way he and the other men looked at her! The desire was plain on their faces, so many noblemen reduced to their simplest elements! They looked at her sideways, they looked at her backside, scanning her blue eyes and even looking right into her face. "I can't say I do," replied Wood. Here again instinct guided her. Even then she had understood vaguely that she had touched upon some philosophy of life: that one was never lonely when alone, only in the midst of crowds. He drew her away from this thought. 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.
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