“It is the first moment we have let him out of our sight,” Brendon exclaimed, as he hastened across the street. “It’s fine, Michelle. 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. She had, it was true, accepted doubtfully the pen he had offered. She dropped the manuscripts and swiftly brought the coat to him, noting that a button hung loose.
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