On the right, stood a bulky figure, with a broken rattle hanging out of his great-coat pocket, who held up a lantern to his battered countenance to prove to the spectators that both his orbs of vision were darkened: on the left, a meagre constable had divested himself of his shirt, to bind up with greater convenience a gaping cut in the arm. But in his presence a wall of diffidence and timidity encompassed her. Four prisoners, termed "The Partners," had charge of this hold. Spurlock dove headlong at the other's legs, toppling the man. "I'll tote the odiousness outside. ‘I can manage now. ‘You were supposed to be nursing him,’ Martha grumbled, ‘and helping him convalesce. “I detest amateurs.
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