Her knees were trembling, her whole frame was shaken with sobs. How would he act when he learned that it had vanished? She gathered up the manuscripts and restored them to the envelope. He pumped as she raised her legs obediently. “I hope you have not come for that. She felt flattered. Rot, no doubt; but we can’t alter it. Annabel had taken her life into her hands with gay insouciance, had made her own friends, gone her own way. This horrible piece of deformity, who acted as drawer and cellarman, and was a constant butt to the small wits of the jail, was nicknamed the Black Dog of Newgate.
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