This
interesting victim had throttled her protector with one hand, while she
had robbed him with the other.
The Admiral left his address with the policeman, satisfied that the
woman was only stunned, not dead, and then set off upon his way once
more, the poorer perhaps in his faith in human nature, but in very good
spirits none the less. He walked with dilated nostrils and clenched
hands, all glowing and tingling with the excitement of the combat, and
warmed with the thought that he could still, when there was need, take
his own part in a street brawl in spite of his three-score and odd
years.
His way now led towards the river-side regions, and a cleansing whiff of
tar was to be detected in the stagnant autumn air. Men with the blue
jersey and peaked cap of the boatman, or the white ducks of the dockers,
began to replace the cardurys and fustian of the laborers. Shops with
nautical instruments in the windows, rope and paint sellers, and slop
shops with long rows of oilskins dangling from hooks, all proclaimed the
neighborhood of the docks. The Admiral quickened his pace and
straightened his figure as his surroundings became more nautical, until
at last, peeping between two high, dingy wharfs, he caught a glimpse of
the mud-colored waters of the Thames, and of the bristle of masts and
funnels which rose from its broad bosom.
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