"Enough!" exclaimed Wild, triumphantly. She gave tongue to the most urgent of her plaints. But that possibility had been anticipated. The houses on Snow Hill were thronged, like those in Old Bailey. Annabel lounged in her chair with a sort of insolent abandon in her pose, and wide-open eyes which never flinched or drooped. “What’s wrong with having witchcraft books? Is she afraid that the Princeton Hill villagers will burn you at stake?” Lucy asked sarcastically. 155 The ringing doorbell jarred her from her stupor. Its very calmness was frightful.
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