A farthing candle, stuck in a bottle neck, shed its feeble light upon the table, which, owing to the provident kindness of Mr. “It is rather odd,” he said, “but I always thought that your name was Annabel and hers Anna. After this occurence, not a word was exchanged between them until they came in sight of the sloop, which was lying at anchor off Wapping. Don’t you care for Nigel at all?” Anna was silent for a moment or two.
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