They were so nearly alike that the difference would be due to a shaky hand. You said that it would bring trouble. Anna stood looking down upon her sister with grave perturbed face. Then there was Tom Jarrot, the hackney-coachman, who was pitched off the box against yonder curbstone, and broke his leg. You have threatened to kill me for nothing, I know not how many times. Haven’t I shown you over and over again that I mean you no harm? What do I have to do?’ ‘You can go away and leave me to my affairs,’ she threw at him. The few pence left in her purse would only provide a very scanty lunch.
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