At no time did she feel bodily or mental fatigue. At night she would turn it in her fingers like a rosary bead. And opposite to him, with a book in his hand,—but it couldn't be a prayer-book,—sat Jonathan Wild, in a parson's cassock and band. Her whole conduct and tone had been modest and ladylike. The stain was blood, but this was a stain that resulted from being up one’s elbows in blood! She smiled a nurse’s knowing smile.
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