“For seven years,” said Ann Veronica, “I have been trying to keep myself from thinking about love. At length the manager arrived; and together he and Ruth succeeded in getting some of the aromatic spirits of ammonia down the patient's throat. He forces an engagement upon her. Looked all over that dratted convent of yours—or at least Trodger and the men did so—but no sign of them. Excuse me an instant while I dismiss this person. Gin Lane's the nearest road to the churchyard.
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