" "Who told you this is his portrait?" demanded Trenchard. “Have you much ability?” asked Ann Veronica. Poor fellow! he sometimes indulges the hope of marrying you, when he grows old enough. “Do you mean in looks?” she asked. " "As for that, I don't say. That for you!" And she snapped her fingers in his face. ‘Me also I do not recall them. I wouldn't accept my life from him. Och! many a mug o' bubb have I drained wi' the landlord, Joe Hind. Nature is God, Anna, and the greatest artist of us all a pigmy. ‘Cajolery? This is not your style.
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