” “No,” said Ann Veronica, offhandedly. Kneebone," observed Shotbolt, as he emptied his tenth tumbler; "I'm sure he's meditating an escape, and hopes to accomplish it to-night. But we were both pledged to secrecy, and I couldn’t reveal my part for fear that I would lose my place. He dressed rather after the fashion of the West End than the City, and affected a cultured urbanity that somehow disconcerted and always annoyed Ann Veronica’s father extremely. I’ve a dread of love dropping its petals, becoming mean and ugly. Wild horses wouldn’t drag it out of me, even I knew anything, which I don’t.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 20-09-2024 14:29:13
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