“Who are you—Annabel Pellissier or her ghost?” Anna laughed. ‘I know,’ said Prudence Sindlesham, sympathy in her tone. “And now,” she said, splintering the surviving piece of coal into indignant flame-spurting fragments with one dexterous blow, “what am I to do? “I’m in a hole!—mess is a better word, expresses it better. Pshaw!" added he, making an effort to subdue his emotion, "I can't leave you in this way. Give him this letter, child, and bid him take it to the Lodge at Newgate without loss of time. That blow made me a thief. ’ ‘Sir!’ called Trodger, as the captain began to lead the young lady off. Nice, of course.
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