Someone was coming out of the house. Her belly was being touched, she felt her thighs caressed softly. Edward Bribble stood between them with an open book. No sterner head was ever beheld beneath the cowl of a monk, or the bonnet of an inquisitor. In the beginning it was a dictionary. "The worst house in the neighbourhood—the constant haunt of reprobates and thieves," groaned Wood. " "May be," returned the man gravely. Is all that folly done with—for ever?” Annabel shivered ever so slightly. But a middle-aged man like Ramage ought to know better than to draw out a girl, the daughter of a friend and neighbor.
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