‘And I don’t mind telling you it goes agin’ the grain with me to let you go free and all, missie. But the recollection of the warm pliant body in his arms …! "I am a thief!" he whispered. He felt that he might soon be separated—perhaps, for ever—from the fond little creature he held in his arms, whom he had always regarded with the warmest fraternal affection, and the thought of how much she would suffer from the separation so sensibly affected him, that he could not help joining in her grief. Before her stretched blank spaces, dotted with running people coming toward her, and below them railings and a statue. " This simple admission disarmed McClintock. Oh, I think I understand, Annabel.
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