" "I've no intention of stirring," replied the woollen-draper, who was thus unceremoniously disturbed: "and I beg you'll sit down, Mr. Ann Veronica passed from her aunt to her father, and put her arms about him and kissed his cheek. Spurlock began to munch his water-chestnuts. ‘Would you have me face my maker with that on my conscience? If I’d died, there’d have been no one to tell you, for your father would not have done. A gust of irrational impatience blew through her being.
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