Their conversation degenerated again and again into a strain of self-congratulation that would have irked an eavesdropper. Do you think it’s nothing to me to have my daughter running about London looking for odd jobs and disgracing herself?” “Sha’n’t get odd jobs,” said Ann Veronica, wiping her eyes. He talked in the same style, and pretty nearly in the same language; laughed in the same manner, and coughed, or sneezed at the same time. ‘Stand where you are, or I shoot!’ Like lightning, thoughts zipped through her mind. Wood, Sir," he added, with much emotion, "is one of the best of men, and would be the happiest, were it not that—" and he hesitated. The race began once more; but this time Ruth knew that there would be no escape. “We may just as well have our talk afterwards,” she said, “and I need not keep poor Mr.
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