"The lash cuts to the bone. It is positively hateful to think of it. His figure was tall and commanding, and the expression of his countenance (though somewhat disturbed by his recent exertion) was resolute and stern. But take a drop of wine," urged he, filling a drinking-horn and presenting it to her; "it's choice canary, and'll do you good. In another minute, the tramp of horses' feet told that the perpetrators of the outrage had effected their escape. At once divining the meaning of this ingenious device, he applied his mouth to the tube, and sucked away, while the person outside poured spirit into the bowl. She was correct, and when I went directly to the street she had named, there you were, walking into the Butcher Shop.
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