Don’t you care for Nigel at all?” Anna was silent for a moment or two. “See you to-night, I suppose?” He sauntered off. It did not matter in the least what name the young fellow was travelling under; all James Boyle O'Higgins wanted was the letter H. I too, Anna, have watched and read of your success with—I must confess it—some misgiving. He brought home her first “meal”, a man who he 77 claimed was a highwayman who had raped several women and was destined for the hangman’s noose.
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