Annabel half filled her glass with wine, and taking a little folded packet from her plate, shook the contents into it. ‘And if not her, for she is dead, then me. Get all ready for his reception. And by degrees, perhaps, that maiden distrust of yours that makes you shrink from my kisses, will vanish. The man was thick set, with a bright roving eye. On the groundfloor the shutters were closed, or, to speak more correctly, altogether nailed up, and presented a very singular appearance, being patched all over with the soles of old shoes, rusty hobnails, and bits of iron hoops, the ingenious device of the former occupant of the apartment, Paul Groves, the cobbler, to whom we have before alluded.
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