" "On no account," rejoined Wood peremptorily. I am something of an old fogey, Anna, I’m afraid, but if you treat me like this you will teach me to forget it. Its dreariness, like the filthiness of the police cell, was a discovery for her. “I don’t know,” said Ann Veronica; “I think I am. CHAPTER XVII. “You remember our first meeting?” “Yes,” he answered hoarsely.
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