And she’s pluck to the backbone. “And to-night we are friends?” “We are friends,” said Ann Veronica, and drew her hand quickly away from him. " "Mr. He addressed her by that title, and something in the tone disturbed her. She walked down the station approach, past the neat, obtrusive offices of the coal merchant and the house agent, and so to the wicket-gate by the butcher’s shop that led to the field path to her home. ‘Adieu, imbecile,’ she threw at him gleefully.
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