There was the same airy grace of movement, the same deep brown hair and alabaster skin. 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. Mr. Norris, and do not return till Father Spencer arrives. If you desire to please me, you will go.
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