“He’s got almost to like it. She did not see the metal pole swing toward the back of her skull, nor did she feel her own blood spoiling her light hair after the dull crack of metal broke her flesh. Wood, contemptuously, "he'll never mend till he comes to Tyburn. It was decrepit and too large. As soon as he had read it, he let it fall from his grasp. Oh! I'm in such a fluster!" Upon which, she snatched up her fan, cast a look into the glass, smoothed down her scarf, threw a soft expression into her features, and led the way into the next room, whither she was followed by her daughter and Thames Darrell.
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