It had been Ann Veronica’s lot as the youngest child to live in a home that became less animated and various as she grew up. A light was visible in the garret, feebly struggling through the damp atmosphere, for the night was raw and overcast. She was, as Capes had said, a hard young woman. “I must live, you know. . ” She looked at him; his face, downcast and in profile, was handsome and strong. " "What right have you to suppose this, Sir?" demanded Trenchard, sternly. “Isn’t there a brother to kick him?” “Mere satisfaction,” reflected Ogilvy. ‘My name’s NOT More, Mr. C. 123 It didn’t take long. Anna took up the pen, and signed, after a moment’s hesitation, A. I didn't expect you home before that hour, Sir. Where were you married?” “At the English Embassy in Paris. We do not remember to have met with a single individual, reported to be under petticoat government, who was not content with his lot,—nay, who so far from repining, did not exult in his servitude; and we see no way of accounting for this apparently inexplicable conduct—for which, among other phenomena of married life, various reasons have been assigned, though none entirely satisfactory to us—except upon the ground that these domineering dames possess some charm sufficiently strong to counteract the irritating effect of their tempers; some secret and attractive quality of which the world at large is in ignorance, and with which their husbands alone can be supposed to be acquainted.
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