" "Of course," rejoined Quilt, maliciously; "every thief is so. Spurling was in a state of distraction and began to abuse Jonathan so violently that her future husband was obliged to lay forcible hands upon her and drag her away. No sterner head was ever beheld beneath the cowl of a monk, or the bonnet of an inquisitor. Her sleepless night had left her languid but not stupefied, and for an hour or so the work distracted her altogether from her troubles. “My God! Ann Veronica,” he said, struggling to keep his hold upon her; “my God! Tell me—tell me now—tell me you love me!” His expression was as it were rapaciously furtive. .
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