The arrested women were herded in a passage of the Panton Street Police-station that opened upon a cell too unclean for occupation, and most of them spent the night standing. Curses light on the horse!" he added, seizing the bridle of his steed, who continued snorting and shivering, as if still under the influence of some unaccountable alarm; "what can ail him?" "I know what ails him, your honour," rejoined the groom, riding up as he spoke; "he's seen somethin' not o' this world. All bad verse—originally the epigram was Lang’s, I believe—is written in a state of emotion. There was something about their greeting and the tone of Annabel’s exclamation which puzzled her. I might have told you the truth. .
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