Annabel looked up and down the empty street, and then turned to her sister. When Gianfrancesco came to call this time, she was excited and ready. The Trenchard estates will likewise be mine, for Sir Rowland is no more, and the youth, Thames, will never again see daylight. The boy she had loved was gone. Besides, there are greater rascals than Jack Sheppard at liberty, Sir Rowland. "Och! he's a broth of a boy!" "Why, I thought he'd broken your head, Terry?" "Phooh! that's nothing? A piece o' plaster'll set all to rights; and Terry O'Flaherty's not the boy to care for the stroke of a supple-jack. ” Her elation teetered in mid-air for a second, then began to flutter down around her like a badly-built house of cards.
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