” The man made no attempt to recover the revolver. Ann Veronica, who knew her dress became her, dropped a curtsy to her father’s regard. He not only did this, but supplied him with an ointment which allayed the swelling of his limbs, and crowned all by furnishing him with a jug of excellent ale. ‘But this is not to my blame, grandpére. “My God! Ann Veronica,” he said, struggling to keep his hold upon her; “my God! Tell me—tell me now—tell me you love me!” His expression was as it were rapaciously furtive.
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