" There was a brief, breathless pause. And she was about as capable of intelligent argument as a runaway steam-roller. He was chained to the ground, but started up at their approach. Uttering a faint scream, she sank backwards, and would have fallen, if it had not been for the interposition of Blueskin, who, at that moment, staggered into the room with a candle in one hand, and the bottle in the other. She's fine. There was a shrill cry, instantly succeeded by a deep splash. So saying, he manfully resumed his work; while Wood and Thames quitted the room, and went down stairs. She sat on the edge of the bed —the wardress was too busy with the flood of arrivals that day to discover that she had it down—and her skin was shivering from the contact of these garments.
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