"Precisely. Their journey had made them indolent, the afternoon was warm, and it seemed impossible to breathe a sweeter air. Ann Veronica jumped up to get her the cardtable. "Are you a poltroon, after all?" "That's it! I ought to have died that night!" "Or is there a taint of insanity in your family history? Alone and practically penniless like yourself! You weren't even stirred by gratitude. ‘To read and write, of course, and to sew. Sailors would leave them at the trader's. " CHAPTER XIX.
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