“Are you sorry you waited, aunt?” she said. “Very well,” she would say, “then I must go. “Anna,” she cried, “you must believe me. I tell you what, Thames," he added, flinging himself carelessly into a chair, "I'd give my right hand,—and that's no light offer for a carpenter's 'prentice,—if that little minx were half as fond of me as she is of you. A knot of three policemen in conflict with her staggered toward Ann Veronica’s attendants and distracted their attention.
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