‘One does not blow off the head of a man with whom one is in love, en effet. Some of the lunatics were rattling their chains; some shrieking; some singing; some beating with frantic violence against the doors. The nuns, they were very good with a whip. “I’m d——d if I understand this,” he said thoughtfully. ‘If you’ll have the goodness, missie, to move yourself out of the way,’ he said aggrievedly, ‘and let us at him, we might have a chance of doing just that. ‘Laisse-moi,’ she panted, shifting wildly in his hold, so that he had all to do to keep her thus imprisoned. He urged his conductors to a quicker pace to get out of sight of the distressing spectacle, and even felt relieved when he was shut out from it and the execrations of the mob by the walls of the little prison. I walked London till the soles of my shoes were worn through, and my toes were blistered. .
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