CHAPTER XVIII The doctor reached for the key and studied it sombrely. ‘Now I see that you are mad indeed. " "We know it," cried several voices. Here was one that subtly mocked her. Whether it was the nun’s habit or the harlot’s clothing that distressed her more, he could not begin to guess. Very well, I give up. "Ah! Terry O'Flaherty!" vociferated Jonathan, in a tone that betrayed hot the slightest discomposure. Never mind. Wood struck me a blow which made me a robber. “Anna,” he pleaded, “be merciful. She inhaled a deep breath of air—London air. Be warned by your father's fate. ’ She let out a peal of laughter.
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