There was no sense in creating further difficulties for herself by arguing with the sergeant over her identity. His fingers slipped under the collar of her linen shift and he tore it open with a swipe. Halloa, Ben!" cried he, shaking a broad-backed fellow, equipped in a short-skirted doublet, and having a badge upon his arm,—"scullers wanted. " "So she was," replied the woollen-draper, helping himself to an enormous pinch of snuff with the air of a man who does not dislike to be rallied about his gallantry,—"so she was. “It’s odd—I have no doubt in my mind that what we are doing is wrong,” he said. He thrust out a rhetorical hand. Feeling rather exhausted, it occurred to him that possibly some provisions might have been left by the constable; and, looking about, he perceived a pitcher of water and a small brown loaf on the floor.
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