She had but to choose. At the present moment she was living in a world of her own creation, a carnival of brave men and fair women, characters out of the tales she had so newly read for the first time. “And where,” he asked, “are my rivals?” “Deserters,” she answered, laughing. This was the reason he had raised his little independent Company of Light Infantry and joined the West Kent Militia. Your poor cheeks are quite sunken and hollow. He touched a long-standing sore, and Ann Veronica found herself vainly trying to explain—the inexplicable.
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