But Darrell averted his head. "You will spare the officers a labour then," rejoined Jonathan. ‘Ha! It’s you, is it?’ He threw a glance at his two juniors. If we were to wait till a prig was rightfully nabbed, we might tarry till doomsday. Gay, was a stout, good-looking, good-humoured man, about thirty-six, with a dark complexion, an oval face, fine black eyes, full of fire and sensibility, and twinkling with roguish humour—an expression fully borne out by the mouth, which had a very shrewd and sarcastic curl. I am fairly well hardened in iniquity—your iniquity, Annabel—but I decline to have a husband thrust upon me. No, I thank you.
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