“I hate you because you are the Devil! Rot in Hell!” She was shocked at her own accusation, how she had savored the words. The poor widow was thrown into an agony of distress on learning that a robbery had been committed, in which her son (for she could not doubt that Jack was one of the boys,) was implicated; nor was her anxiety alleviated by Mrs. Amid this varied throng,—varied in appearance, but alike in character,—one object alone, we have said, rivetted Mrs. Annabel watched her with wide-open, terrified eyes. CHAPTER XXIII. I don’t play anything. She knew the story only imperfectly, and followed it now with a passionate and deepening interest. Manning, “they’re a dream.
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