‘But you will not be in a convent. People running, screaming, hiding. While the strife raged between the principals, the watermen in the larger wherry were occupied in stemming the force of the torrent, and endeavouring to keep the boats, they had lashed together, stationary. ‘I don’t know what the devil you’re talking about. Drenched to the skin,—in fact, he had been lying in a bed of muddy water,—and chilled to the very bone, he felt so stiff, that he could scarcely move. It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat.
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