He was not to suppose the Royalist commander so indifferently skilled in the trade he followed.
Mr.Blood knocked the ashes from his pipe, and drew back to close his window.

As he did so, his glance travelling straight across the street met at last the glance of those hostile eyes that watched him.

There were two pairs, and they belonged to the Misses Pitt, two amiable, sentimental maiden ladies who yielded to none in Bridgewater in their worship of the handsome Monmouth.
Mr.Blood smiled and inclined his head, for he was on friendly terms with these ladies, one of whom, indeed, had been for a little while his patient.

But there was no response to his greeting.

Instead, the eyes gave him back a stare of cold disdain.