Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one. But I can't submit to hear the wellearned reputation of my friend termed an 'infamous notoriety. But I will not believe you. ‘Your niece, ma’am. ‘Though he didn’t mean it. "Who are you?" inquired Mrs. A vein of conviction mingled with his burlesque. “Who?” She asked. “Never. White’s boarding-house in Russell Square. You’d better not have all the money on you; you had better open a small account in the postoffice and draw it out a fiver at a time. People, nobody, can do as they like in this world. I overheard Jonathan Wild's instructions to Quilt Arnold, and though he spoke in slang, and in an under tone, my quick ears, and acquaintance with the thieves' lingo, enabled me to make out every word he uttered. CHAPTER XVII.
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