‘I have no idea. It was a purse. ” Ann Veronica read this letter through with grave, attentive eyes. " "So she was," replied the woollen-draper, helping himself to an enormous pinch of snuff with the air of a man who does not dislike to be rallied about his gallantry,—"so she was. There is no poison that would affect her. ” “Out with it, then,” he cried, almost roughly. There was question in Gerald’s gaze as it met hers, and apology in his voice. We were to live in some wretched London suburb.
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