‘You were supposed to be nursing him,’ Martha grumbled, ‘and helping him convalesce. She liked the high, easy swing of the thing over its big wheels, the quick clatter-patter of the horse, the passage of the teeming streets. Next instant, Gerald felt his wrist seized in an iron grip. It felt too good. No sooner had Trenchard crossed the threshold than a fierce barking was heard at the farther extremity of the passage, and, the next moment, a couple of mastiffs of the largest size rushed furiously towards him.
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