“The young women of Jane Austen’s time didn’t get into this sort of scrape! At least—one thinks so. I can’t imagine Londoners—particularly interested in me. There was Major Price—you must recollect him, Sir Rowland,—he stumbled as he was getting out of his chair at that very gate. . On the right, stood a bulky figure, with a broken rattle hanging out of his great-coat pocket, who held up a lantern to his battered countenance to prove to the spectators that both his orbs of vision were darkened: on the left, a meagre constable had divested himself of his shirt, to bind up with greater convenience a gaping cut in the arm. " "Oh God!" exclaimed Jack, paralysed by her cries. "But I can guess what it's for.
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