Water poured into her eyes, nose, and mouth in a torrent from which she had to turn and wheeze. He was about to cut the sergeant short, when his eye fell on a gentleman walking along Piccadilly, his manner uncertain, his eyes shifting as if he sought something out. This at once thrilled her and worried her. Against the walls hung an assortment of staves, brown-bills, (weapons then borne by the watch,) muskets, handcuffs, great-coats, and lanterns. She was aware of the body of the court, of clerks seated at a black table littered with papers, of policemen standing about stiffly with expressions of conscious integrity, and a murmuring background of the heads and shoulders of spectators close behind her. “But a boy—a boy goes out into the world and presently stands on his own feet. As for loving you, I do. Smith will tell you I'm misinformed, also, on that point. Then she sat down—uninvited— and looked from one to the other curiously.
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