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Dickens, Charles, 1812-1870

"Barnaby Rudge: a tale of the Riots of 'eighty"

They shrunk from his touch,
each into the farthest corner of the carriage; but shrink as Dolly
would, his arm encircled her waist, and held her fast. She neither cried
nor spoke, for terror and disgust deprived her of the power; but she
plucked at his hand as though she would die in the effort to disengage
herself; and crouching on the ground, with her head averted and held
down, repelled him with a strength she wondered at as much as he. The
carriage stopped again.
'Lift this one out,' said Hugh to the man who opened the door, as
he took Miss Haredale's hand, and felt how heavily it fell. 'She's
fainted.'
'So much the better,' growled Dennis--it was that amiable gentleman.
'She's quiet. I always like 'em to faint, unless they're very tender and
composed.'
'Can you take her by yourself?' asked Hugh.
'I don't know till I try. I ought to be able to; I've lifted up a good
many in my time,' said the hangman. 'Up then! She's no small weight,
brother; none of these here fine gals are. Up again! Now we have her.'
Having by this time hoisted the young lady into his arms, he staggered
off with his burden.
'Look ye, pretty bird,' said Hugh, drawing Dolly towards him.


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