” Annabel pulled down her veil to hide the tears. I'm one of those unfortunate duffers who have too much imagination—the kind who build their own chimeras and then run away from them. " "Gem'men o' the votch!" cried Sharples, as loudly as a wheezy cough would permit him, "my noble pris'ner—ough! ough;—the Markis o' Slaughterford ——" Further speech was cut short by a volley of execrations from the angry guardians of the night. Conscious of Mrs. Wood, regarding her husband with a glance of vindictive triumph.
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