"Or will it hurt the baby ?" "No, miss." "What's the matter with your wrists ?" asked Martin.
The seamstress, muffing her arms with the garment she was dipping in soapy water, did not answer.
"Don't do that.

Let me have a look." Mrs.Hughs held out her arms; the wrists were swollen and discoloured.
"The brute!" cried Thyme.
The young doctor muttered: "Done last night.

Got any arnica ?" "No, Sir." "Of course not." He laid a sixpence on the sill.

"Get some and rub it in.

Mind you don't break the skin." Thyme suddenly burst out: "Why don't you leave him, Mrs.Hughs?
Why do you live with a brute like that ?" Martin frowned.
"Any particular row," he said, "or only just the ordinary ?" Mrs.Hughs turned her face to the scanty fire.