He then scaled the northern tower, and made his way to the summit of that part of the prison which fronted Giltspur Street. It was approached from the street by a flight of broad stone steps, leading to a ponderous door, plated with iron, and secured on the inner side by huge bolts, and a lock, with wards of a prodigious size. To her horror she realized that she had nearly forgotten how to kiss after a years-long dry spell, and she could detect drool on her own chin and John’s cheek. The air was sweet with the smoky perfume of myrrh, hazy and dense with incense. I rarely set foot in London these days.
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