The doctor sensed that his bolt had gone wrong, but he could not tell how or why. The looming face was 71 over her own once again, and arms as strong as iron bars held her down. “For nothing, do you call it?” he declared. He stepped quickly towards her. In this state, he was laid upon a bench, to sleep off his drunken fit, while his wretched mother, in spite of her passionate supplications and resistance, was, by Blueskin's command, forcibly ejected from the house, and driven out of the Mint.
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