The Project Gutenberg EBook of Ann Veronica, by H. Then there was Tom Jarrot, the hackney-coachman, who was pitched off the box against yonder curbstone, and broke his leg. “It sounds too ridiculous. Your career at the bar had given you a command of language, also a self-control not vouchsafed to us ordinary mortals. She had been quite convinced that an engagement with him and at last a marriage had exactly that quality of compromise which distinguishes the ways of the wise. “Yes, I will go,” she promised, with a queer little smile. What brings you here?” “I’m here to see my uncle. Still, I am curious. ‘I’m only a poor country wench, child. “Accident! She shot me,” he muttered. “But how can you?” asked Constance. Still —there you are!” He paused. But this was a vicomte’s sister. She knew blood was rushing to his face and other places as well.
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