82 She was putting a manuscript away, gingerly locking its heavy tooled cover, but it was a huge, awkward tome. Its smooth surface soothed her nerves. Annabel seated herself in an easy chair and determined to wait for her sister’s return. . This person—this Jonathan Wild, whom I beheld for the first time, scarcely an hour ago, in Wych Street, is—I know not why—my enemy. ” Chapter XXXII SIX MONTHS AFTER Up the moss-grown path, where the rose bushes run wild, almost met, came Anna in a spotless white gown, with the flush of her early morning walk in her cheeks, and something of the brightness of it in her eyes.
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