“You are not going out—this evening, I trust,” that lady asked, a trifle dismayed. “Damn!” said Ann Veronica to herself, rousing herself for a conflict. "My horse has had a fall," replied Jack, assuming to perfection—for he was a capital mimic,—the tones of Quilt Arnold. The family always managed to make it home for supper, even though it was a dying custom.
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