Entering the workshop, he found the blacksmith occupied in heating the tire of a cart wheel. Annabel was conscious then of the slow anger which had been burning within her since the night of her visit to the “Unusual. " "No doubt," he replied. “Nor am I now,” he answered. Shotbolt, who had in some degree recovered from the effects of his previous mortification, was thrown into an ecstacy of delight, and could not sufficiently exult over the prisoner.
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