‘Woof!’ uttered Trodger, gazing at the lady in some awe. Soldiers were stationed at different points of the street to keep off the mob, and others were riding backwards and forwards to maintain an open space for the passage of the procession. We are nuns. To-morrow night —or rather to-night, for we are fast verging on another day—I propose to lure him out of the house by a stratagem which I am sure will prove infallible; and, then, what so easy as to knock him on the head. “He is Annabel’s husband,” she reminded him. .
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