“That sounds interesting. ‘She’s an eviltempered little termagant, yes, but there’s no malice aforethought. How she had hated it!… All these mumblings which were never explained, which carried no more sense to her brain than they would have carried to Old Morgan's swearing parrot. We will get on with the agreement and you shall have in it whatever rubbish you like. . “By God! Ann Veronica,” he said, sighing deeply. “Drive to 13, Montague Street, cabman,” she ordered. She had to do her thinking at home—under inspection.
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