Chapter IX BRENDON’S LUCK Anna sat in a chair in her room and sighed. "I don't think he would leave me, even if I could part with him," observed Mrs. Solomon Smith, chapmen, (or what in modern vulgar parlance would be termed bagmen) travelling to procure orders for the house of an eminent cloth manufacturer in Manchester. I've some other things inside, Sir, which you might wish to buy,—some pistols. It was at lunch when McClintock announced that in the mailpouch he had found a letter addressed to Howard Taber, care of Donald McClintock and so-forth. The party resolved itself for Ann Veronica into a game in which she manoeuvred unostentatiously and finally unsuccessfully to avoid talking alone with this gentleman. Wait, though. " "Poor child!" muttered Trenchard, abstractedly; "the whole scene upon the river is passing before me. The wings stopped. Lest the carpenter should be taxed with too much uxoriousness, it behoves us to ascertain whether the personal attractions of his helpmate would, in any degree, justify the devotion he displayed.
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