At sight of his wan features, she forgot the urgency of her need for a moment, and fell to her knees at his bedside, placing her hands on his slack ones where they lay on the soiled coverlet. You get the idea. John turned toward the short staircase as she alit upon the first creaky step. “You propose, then,” she remarked, “that I shall still be saddled with a pseudo husband. Such was his fury, that if he had not been restrained by the presence of the two turnkeys, he might perhaps have anticipated the course of justice, by laying violent hands upon his victim. ‘It had better not be, by God,’ had barked Captain Hilary Roding. But d—n him! let's talk o' something more agreeable.
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