I say, I'll take the yarn over and read it to McClintock. “Politics!” Ennison answered grimly. This purse," he added, chinking it in the air, "and this ring, were given me for him just now by the lady, who made a false step on leaving your house. Oh, I think I understand, Annabel. Pragmar, the wholesale druggist, who lived three gardens away, and who had been mowing his lawn to get an appetite for dinner, standing in a fascinated attitude beside the forgotten lawn-mower and watching her intently. “What have you done to yourself?” he muttered. Of this boy she had only caught a glimpse;—but that glimpse was sufficient to satisfy her it was her son,—and, if she could have questioned her own instinctive love, she could not question her antipathy, when she beheld, partly concealed by a pillar immediately in the rear of the woollen-draper, the dark figure and truculent features of Jonathan Wild. "Not so, Sir Rowland," returned Jonathan; "you are my prisoner. —BRENDON. Anna——” Again she stopped him, but this time it was not so easy. .
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