A thickly-set, sandy young man, with an unwholesome complexion and grease-smooth hair, had entered the room. Perhaps, after all, the others were right. "Von't you hear me?—ough! ough!" demanded Sharples, after a pause. "Come down stairs directly, and let your mother look at your wrist. ” Ann Veronica looked at her thoughtfully for a moment, and decided to persist on principle. Every drop of blood in her body glowed and expanded. ” “Did I?” she said.
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