” Annabel had been lying curled up on the lounge, the personification of graceful animal ease. Mrs. This person—this Jonathan Wild, whom I beheld for the first time, scarcely an hour ago, in Wych Street, is—I know not why—my enemy. I wish”— she found she had embarked on a bad sentence—“I wish we needn’t have quarrelled. ” TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE: Typesetting and editing of the original book from which this e-text has been transcribed was inconsistent. Cursing under his breath, Gerald moved swiftly across and dragged her away.
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