Go on." The voices commenced their chattering again, through which excitement, like a wandering bee, hummed a moving note.
"You won't make any fuss, will yer, mister ?" the master's voice could be heard saying.
"I?
Make a fuss?
No; why the devil should I?
Go on!" "Third round!" said the master.
Then for a moment Sally's eyes opened.

In one of the corners sat Morrison on the knee of an attendant, who was sponging the blood from his face, whilst another flapped a towel before him.

She took a deep breath as he rose slowly to his feet and came forward to meet his man.

Directly the shuffling sound of feet began again, she closed her eyes once more, holding with fingers numbed and cold to the fringe of the curtain beside her.

All the sounds then trooped in pictures before her mind.