He stole his chance and thrust his hand towards hers. She read on and on, now thrilled by the swiftly moving drama, now enraptured by the tender passages of love. Annabel lounged in her chair with a sort of insolent abandon in her pose, and wide-open eyes which never flinched or drooped. ‘I would read your body,’ he whispered, and lifted her fingers to his lips. Wood, in a taunting tone. Whenever she came upon the obliterated word and paused, her father would say: "Faith. On his first entrance, a prisoner, if unable or unwilling to comply with the exactions of the turnkeys, was thrust into the Condemned Hold with the worst description of criminals, and terrified by threats into submission.
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