” He read it in winter in the evening after dinner, and Ann Veronica associated it with a tendency to monopolize the lamp, and to spread a very worn pair of dappled fawn-skin slippers across the fender. Meanwhile, the clergyman, bare-headed and in his surplice, advanced to meet them. Shame and electricity coursed through her veins, flowing directly from him in a flash flood. “You are neither of you in the least like the ordinary boarding-house young man. Now it is—’ ‘What are you doing still here, missie, that’s what I’d like to know?’ demanded the man Trodger, sticking to his guns.
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