Close behind him stood the tall gaunt figure of Marvel, with his large bony hands, his scraggy neck, and ill-favoured countenance. “God in Heaven, Annabel!” he cried. " "Poh! poh!" rejoined Ireton; "it was mere idle boasting. In this state, he was laid upon a bench, to sleep off his drunken fit, while his wretched mother, in spite of her passionate supplications and resistance, was, by Blueskin's command, forcibly ejected from the house, and driven out of the Mint. Wood," she cried, as the staff fell from his grasp.
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