Instinctively she knew—some human recollection she had inherited—that she must not disturb him in this man-agony. Annabel, come to the door with me,” she added a little abruptly. “It is just a look. "I don't know how it is," he added in a low voice to Thames, as they were left alone, "but I've a strange foreboding of ill. As the day wore on, the crowds diminished,—many who would not submit to the turnkey's demands were sent away ungratified,—and at five o'clock, only two strangers, Mr. Cocked hats and buckled swords spoke of rank. Distress like hers might palliate far greater offences than she ever committed.
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