“Not home yet, miss,” the young man replied. '—'It's not to be thought of,' says I, thumping the table till every glass on it jingled; 'and I know a way as'll prevent it. Whatever anticipation Ann Veronica had formed of this vanished in the reality. “We shall try again later. This roof is still open to you. “I think we are growing sensible,” he said. You—It’s jolly of you to confide in me.
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