Kneebone, a woollen-draper in Wych Street, with whose pockets, it appears, Jack, when a lad, made a little too free. I was sure you could not have the heart to slay a child—an innocent child. ” “He imposed on me,” Annabel continued. But she could not live in constant association with him without having these gaps filled. She was only a few yards from the door, but lacked the courage to rise and fly.
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