Her first impulse was to fly to the window; and she was about to pass through it, at the risk of sharing the fate of the unfortunate lady, when her arm was grasped by some one in the act of ascending the ladder from without. The evil in his eyes towards her was explosive. At the corner of Liquorpond Street stood the old Hampstead coach-office; and, on the night in question, a knot of hostlers, waggoners, drivers, and stable-boys was collected in the yard. “You don’t propose, do you,” she said quietly, “that I should take this man for my husband?” “You can drive him away,” Annabel cried. “Oh, Ann Veronica!” he cried, “I cannot let you go like this! You don’t understand. ” She said quietly. "I'll gibbet the rascal. His face was much handsomer than Gianfrancesco’s, his lips thinner, his brow much more noble and wise.
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