There, after protestations of friendliness and helpfulness that were almost ardent, he mounted a little clumsily and rode off at an amiable pace, looking his best, making a leg with his riding gaiters, smiling and saluting, while Ann Veronica turned northward and so came to Micklechesil. She wondered if the second part would overcome his objections? Several times the words had rushed to her tongue, to find her tongue paralysed. The ribald demons that infested the back of Ann Veronica’s mind urged various facetious interrogations upon her, as, for example, where the witness had acquired his prose style. She cried out his name in ecstasy. But how to avail himself of it was the question, for in his present garb he was sure to be recognised. "My horse has had a fall," replied Jack, assuming to perfection—for he was a capital mimic,—the tones of Quilt Arnold. You think everything is harmless and simple, and so forth. .
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