Perhaps what urged her interest in the young man's direction was the dead whiteness of his face, the puffed eyelids and the bloodshot whites. The terror faded from her eyes. After the sights he would have to twiddle his thumbs until the joints cracked. "The gentleman is a stranger to me, Poll," replied the woollen-draper, with increased embarrassment. The shouts drew nearer, and lights were seen flashing ruddily against the sides and gables of the neighbouring houses. These things were common knowledge among the bon ton, who were generously welcoming these unfortunate escapees.
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