She hated living like that. I don’t wish to marry you at all. Your laugh reminds me of—of——" "Whose, Sir?" demanded Jackson, becoming suddenly grave. Ann Veronica stood in the twilight room staring at the door that had slammed upon her aunt, her pocket-handkerchief rolled tightly in her hand. He perceived, however, that both the novels he read and the world he lived in discountenanced these assumptions. ” “Madman!” “Blithering ass!” The girl looked into the two indignant faces and held out both her hands.
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