“What a hypocrite you are. Then one old crone, short-sighted and shaky-handed, called Ann Veronica “dearie,” and made some remark, obscure and slangy, of which the spirit rather than the words penetrated to her understanding. These daughters! He gnawed his pen and reflected, tore the sheet up, and began again. "You are arrested for high treason," rejoined Wild, presenting a pistol at his head, while he drew forth a parchment,—"here is my warrant. ” Anna drummed impatiently with her fingers against the arm of her chair.
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