“You said you were in love with me,” said Ann Veronica; “I wanted to explain —” “I said I loved and wanted you. It is abominable—” “What is the use of keeping up this note of indignation, Ann Veronica? Here I am! I am your lover, burning for you. He won’t be in uniform. As he proceeded, other painful reminiscences were aroused. There was no mistaking his intentions this time. " "Gem'men o' the votch!" cried Sharples, as loudly as a wheezy cough would permit him, "my noble pris'ner—ough! ough;—the Markis o' Slaughterford ——" Further speech was cut short by a volley of execrations from the angry guardians of the night. “You no longer belong to Gianfrancesco.
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