She was not squeamish—although the sight of the sergeant’s ominous preparations had severely tried her fortitude—but Kimble’s white face plagued her conscience. “Wild horses—not if they have all the mounted police in London—shan’t keep me out. ” She smiled faintly. A sense of loss was amongst us. “Why, what is the matter with you? What do you mean?” Annabel laughed scornfully. Spurlock plodded through the heavy sand, leaden in the heart and mind as well as in the feet. " The carpenter, upon whom no part of this hurried dialogue had been lost, now made his appearance, and having obtained from Terence all the information which that personage could impart respecting the perilous situation of Thames, he declared himself ready to start to Saint Giles's at once, and ran back to the room for his hat and stick; expressing his firm determination, as he pocketed his constable's staff with which he thought it expedient to arm himself, of being direfully revenged upon the thief-taker: a determination in which he was strongly encouraged by his wife. ‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey. "The end is the most beautiful in English literature.
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