Superstition—you knock into it whichever way you turn. She fluttered her eyelashes, and adopted the soulful tone that served her well at times. A moment afterwards, the street was illumined by a blaze of torchlight, and a tumultuous uproar, mixed with the clashing of weapons, and the braying of horns, announced the arrival of the first detachment of Minters. At noon the doctor himself arrived. They rose as she approached. "Give me your hand, Poll, to help me through," cried Jack, as he accomplished the operation.
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