Dizzily, she grabbed at the mantel for support and, resting her head on her hands, paid no heed to a betraying sound behind her—until an unexpected arm encircled her. "To-night you shall be my wedded wife. I’ve got too much work. Jack Sheppard is a match for Jonathan Wild, any day. Miss Mary to the life. There must be something we can do. " "That's well!" cried Jack. “Called myself Anna,” the girl repeated coolly. It seemed incredible that she and her aunt were, indeed, creatures of the same blood, only by a birth or so different beings, and part of that same broad interlacing stream of human life that has invented the fauns and nymphs, Astarte, Aphrodite, Freya, and all the twining beauty of the gods. She stared at his pleading face. He then arose, and, taking a few turns in the chamber, stopped suddenly before her. ‘I can take care of myself, bête.
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