” “Mr. How came you, Sir," he continued, addressing Sheppard, "to venture upon that frame. Her aunt glanced up startled, and then sat very still, with hands that had ceased to work. And I guessed you would attack if I startled you. Wily little devil she is. He—he has rather a poor opinion of his contemporaries. I am something of an old fogey, Anna, I’m afraid, but if you treat me like this you will teach me to forget it. He measured out the portion of another peg, the bottle wavering in his hand. ” End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Ann Veronica, by H. “MY DEAR DAUGHTER,” it ran,—“Here, on the verge of the season of forgiveness I hold out a last hand to you in the hope of a reconciliation.
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