“I’m just off, aunt,” said Ann Veronica. ” Courtlaw rose too. " "Most likely," observed Jonathan, with a slight sneer; "the ghost of some highwayman who has just breathed his last in Newgate, no doubt. I am fairly well hardened in iniquity—your iniquity, Annabel—but I decline to have a husband thrust upon me. But he's witty and amusing, and when reasonably drunk he can play the piano like a Paderewski.
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