Ann Veronica sat firelit by her tea-tray with, quite unconsciously, the air of an expert hostess. ‘For God’s sake, let go my hand,’ he begged. Then there was Tom Jarrot, the hackney-coachman, who was pitched off the box against yonder curbstone, and broke his leg. But I shall lose my wager if I stay a moment longer—so here goes. Nevertheless she withdrew her hand. "Ah!" cried Wild, laying down his pen and looking up with a smile of satisfaction. " Jonathan hastily picked up the pen, and presented it to Trenchard, who attached his signature to the document. 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.
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