"Before you go, bring me the bottle of pineapple rum I opened yesterday. I’m so glad you’re not angry. Montague Hill?” Annabel put her hand suddenly to her throat and steadied herself with the back of a chair. "I have good news for you. I believe that his recovery was considered almost miraculous. Wood, despair will come over me; and, dear as this babe is to me, far dearer than my own wretched life, which I would lay down for him any minute, I have prayed to Heaven to remove him, rather than he should grow up to be a man, and be exposed to his father's temptations—rather than he should live as wickedly and die as disgracefully as his father. She was sore with the perplexities of her preposterous position.
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