It was Annabel’s. Nothing seemed to be amiss. And next morning she attired herself with especial care and neatness, found his address in the Directory at a post-office, and went to him. The angels in Heaven shall not tear you from me. "And so you'll turn highwayman, will you, you young dog?" continued the carpenter, cuffing him soundly,—"rob the mails, like Jack Hall, I suppose. "Where is he?" he cried.
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