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. Why not? Were not his own sentiments inclined in favour of the patient? But fifty gold was fifty gold. The hand which the man had been holding hung limp and nerveless at her side.
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