All this Woman-who-Diddery —no damn good. “One is always playing the surgeon, one kills always the thing one loves best. Whether it was the nun’s habit or the harlot’s clothing that distressed her more, he could not begin to guess. No sooner did the vehicle turn the corner of this yard, than Quilt became aware, from the tumultuous sounds that reached his ears, as well as from the flashing of various lanterns at the door of the round-house, that some disturbance was going on; and, apprehensive of a rescue, if he drew up in the midst of the mob, he thought it prudent to come to a halt.
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