“Muck-headed moral ass! I ought to have done anything. . She wished that the drive would never end, but it was only three miles after all. ‘Don’t even think of it,’ warned Gerald, in the voice generally reserved for his men. What does it matter? I am not a pauper, Annabel. I dare not reflect upon the effect that her son's fate,—if the efforts to save him are ineffectual,—may have upon her enfeebled frame, and still worse upon her mind. We'll then remove them both to the Middle Stone Hold, where a watch shall be kept over them night and day till they're taken to Tyburn. That same adventurousness that had already buoyed her through crises that would have overwhelmed any normally feminine girl with shame and horror now became uppermost again. He sat on the bed, throwing aside his hat. "You're in danger. They litter up the room.
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