"I forgive him his disobedience. I don’t think that the rest of the people here like us very well, do they, Arthur, so we’re obliged to be friends. Very doubtful. " And he proceeded to handcuff his captive. There was a murmur or two among the watchers on the bench, but no one ventured to intervene again. Nor did he content himself with declaring his guiltlessness of the crime imputed to him, but began in his turn to menace his captor and accuser, loading the latter with the bitterest upbraidings. Wet as he was, he felt if he lay down in the grass, he should perish with cold; while, if he sought a night's lodging in any asylum, his dress, stained with blood and covered with dirt, would infallibly cause him to be secured and delivered into the hands of justice. Annabel, I was lying.
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