It is no more a murder, but a duel, you understand. I must apologize for my young puppy of a clerk. ’ He looked the girl up and down. If you were a poet in need of rhymes, you had only to turn to a certain page. Ireton rushed forward to open the wicket for him. " "Hold your tongue, sirrah," rejoined Shotbolt, not over-pleased by the remark, "and mind what I tell you. ” And thus it was that as Ann Veronica neared the gates of home, she said to herself: “I’ll have it out with him somehow.
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