“He’s a Fellow of the Royal Society, and he can’t be much over thirty,” said Miss Klegg. " And, with this generous resolve, he shouted at the top of his voice, "Arrest! arrest! help! help!" seconding the words with a shrill and peculiar cry, well known at the time to the inhabitants of the quarter in which it was uttered. "As long as you please, Sir," answered the matron, dropping a curtsey. Occasionally the mere fact of lying in bed became unendurable, and she rolled out and marched about her room and whispered abuse of herself—usually until she hit against some article of furniture.
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