He dressed rather after the fashion of the West End than the City, and affected a cultured urbanity that somehow disconcerted and always annoyed Ann Veronica’s father extremely. “I’m sorry I told you that, Michelle. "Eh-day! what's this?" cried Wood, looking up from beneath his spectacles. “How do you know—why do you think that my name is Anna?” He smiled in a quietly superior way. It was common name, so I was thrown off the scent.
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