The lips were straight and pale, the chin aggressive, the nose indomitable. “It is the same man, Annabel,” she said. ToC That night Jack walked to Paddington, and took up his quarters at a small tavern, called the Wheat-sheaf, near the green. Gently she raised his head and withdrew the coat from under the pillow. At length, about an hour before dawn on the second day—Sunday—having spent the early part of the night in watching at the gates of the robbers' sanctuary, and being almost exhausted from want of rest, she set out homewards.
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