She was a very elegant young woman, slightly taller perhaps than her sister, and with an air of reserved strength underneath her quiet face and manner which Annabel may have lacked. "You will never leave me," sobbed the poor woman, straining him to her breast. The ribald demons that infested the back of Ann Veronica’s mind urged various facetious interrogations upon her, as, for example, where the witness had acquired his prose style. At last she glanced at a little clock in the corner of the room, and sprang to her feet. " "Proceed, Sir," said Trenchard, breathing hard. The thief-taker's throat was bound up with thick folds of linen, and his face had a ghastly and cadaverous look, which communicated an undefinable and horrible expression to his glances.
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