‘Rattle yer arm, corpel, and show her,’ said Cripplestraw.
‘Yes, sure,’ said the corporal, raising the limb slowly, as if the glory of exhibition had lost some of its novelty, though he was willing to oblige. Twisting it mercilessly about with his right hand he produced a crunching among the bones at every motion, Cripplestraw seeming to derive great satisfaction from the ghastly sound.
‘How very shocking!’ said Anne, painfully anxious for him to leave off.
‘O, it don’t hurt him, bless ye. Do it, corpel?’ said Cripplestraw.
‘Not a bit,’ said the corporal, still working his arm with great energy.
‘There’s no life in the bones at all. No life in ’em, I tell her, corpel!’
‘None at all.’
‘They be as loose as a bag of ninepins,’ explained Cripplestraw in continuation. ‘You can feel ’em quite plain, Mis’ess Anne. If ye would like to, he’ll undo his sleeve in a minute to oblege ye?’
‘O no, no, please not! I quite understand,’ said the young woman.
‘Do she want to hear or see any more, or don’t she?’ the corporal inquired, with a sense that his time was getting wasted.