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           "Wasitherleftfacingyouorherleftlookingthesamewayyouwere?"

           Mr.Tatesaid,"Ohyes,that’dmakeitherright.Itwasherrighteye,Mr.Finch.Iremembernow,shewasbungeduponthatsideofherface...."

           Mr.Tateblinkedagain,asifsomethinghadsuddenlybeenmadeplaintohim.ThenheturnedhisheadandlookedaroundatTomRobinson.Asifbyinstinct,TomRobinsonraisedhishead.

           SomethinghadbeenmadeplaintoAtticusalso,anditbroughthimtohisfeet."Sheriff,pleaserepeatwhatyousaid."

           "Itwasherrighteye,Isaid."

           "No..."Atticuswalkedtothecourtreporter’sdeskandbentdowntothefuriouslyscribblinghand.Itstopped,flippedbacktheshorthandpad,andthecourtreportersaid,"’Mr.Finch.Iremembernowshewasbungeduponthatsideoftheface.’"

           AtticuslookedupatMr.Tate."Whichsideagain,Heck?"

           "Therightside,Mr.Finch,butshehadmorebruises—youwantahearabout‘em?"

           Atticusseemedtobeborderingonanotherquestion,buthethoughtbetterofitandsaid,"Yes,whatwereherotherinjuries?"AsMr.Tateanswered,AtticusturnedandlookedatTomRobinsonasiftosaythiswassomethingtheyhadn’tbargainedfor.

           "...herarmswerebruised,andsheshowedmeherneck.Thereweredefinitefingermarksonhergullet—"

           "Allaroundherthroat?Atthebackofherneck?"

           "I’dsaytheywereallaround,Mr.Finch."