She lost it in the Mint. The man was thick set, with a bright roving eye. Her hair touched water, becoming like the seaweed in its velvet slickness. Except he was the only idiot who would stay. Papillon would have broken him down; anything tender would have sapped his will; and like as not he would have left the stool and rushed into the night. A wooden balcony in one of the adjoining houses was thronged with ladies, all of whom appeared to take a lively interest in the scene, and to be full of commiseration for the criminal, not, perhaps, unmixed with admiration of his appearance.
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