Before any assistance could be rendered by the jailers, who stood astounded, Blueskin had got Wild in his clutches. Stanley, putting his hands on the table in the manner rather of a barrister than a solicitor, and regarding her balefully through his glasses with quite undisguised animosity, asked, “And may I presume to inquire, then, what you mean to do?—how do you propose to live?” “I shall live,” sobbed Ann Veronica. Planting his knee against her side, he pulled her towards him with one hand, while with the other he sought his knife. As she went on, the story began to sound more and more like a recitation. ” She paused, and he waited for her to speak. ‘I wish you joy of the wench.
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