" "Nothing else?" "No. '" "What is that?" she asked. ’ ‘That’s fortunate,’ murmured Lucilla. Then there was Tom Jarrot, the hackney-coachman, who was pitched off the box against yonder curbstone, and broke his leg. He was an old, skilled vampire. ” “Annabel knew where I lived,” Anna continued slowly. “His back was towards me,” Anna said. She had recourse to the torn off strip of petticoat again, and blowing her nose with an air of determination, sniffed back the tears. The less she lived, in fact, the better.
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