207 She romanced a dark-haired farmer a few times, having long since forgotten his name. She was always asking questions about her mother and supplying the answers. " Amazed at the boy's assurance, Wood left off boxing his ears for a moment, and, looking at him steadfastly, said in a grave tone, "Jack, Jack, you'll come to be hanged!" "Better be hanged than hen-pecked," retorted the lad with a malicious grin. ‘Still—here? Wasting your—time. A struggle of the most terrific kind now ensued. " "Who told you this is his portrait?" demanded Trenchard. ” “If you can tear yourself away from this delightful place in five minutes,” she answered, “I think I can get rid of the others. "You're inquisitive, young gentleman," replied Jackson, coldly. “There’s no delusions, so far as I know,” said Ann Veronica.
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