Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love. Is all your house on the same scale of magnificence as this, Annabel?” she asked, looking round. " "'Ouns!" ejaculated Terence, in alarm, "would you turn snitch on your old pal, Quilt?" "Ay, if he plays a-cross," returned Quilt. These convulsions occurred when Ann Veronica was about twelve. ‘The credentials, milor’,’ he ventured. .
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