She needed to protect the baby. The grate was full of fluttering ashes of burnt paper, and the easy chair near the fire had evidently been used. Do sit down, dear boy. “Annabel,” she said, “I have never asked you for your confidence. The poor wretch, driven by desperation to the commission of a crime which her soul abhors, is no more beyond the hope of reformation than she is without the pale of mercy. ‘Or flew in by balloon, perhaps.
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