"That gown is getting shabby. ‘I live in Kent. Put him in the stocks, and there let him sleep off his drunken fit. ” Ennison took an easy chair. As she talked, the drift and significance of what she was saying shaped itself slowly to Ann Veronica’s apprehension. As she looked in this direction, the thief-taker raised his eyes—those gray, blood-thirsty eyes!—their glare froze the life-blood in her veins. She thought of Capes. They used to marry us off at seventeen, rush us into things before we had time to protest. The moment they cease to be serviceable, or become dangerous he lodges an information, and the matter's settled.
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