‘One of your countrymen, perhaps?’ The girl clammed up, the moon of her white face staring up at him in the darkness. “For seven years,” said Ann Veronica, “I have been trying to keep myself from thinking about love. " "Then you are taking me on?" Spurlock's eyes grew soft like those of a dog that, expecting the whip, saw only the kindly hand. One of your aunts died, I believe, and the other removed to London. She had lost it. Show him no quarter, Poll. None at all.
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