Spurlock dove headlong at the other's legs, toppling the man. Rain started to pummel the roof of the pavilion, which coalesced into sheets and rumbled to the cement below. “Gods!” cried Ann Veronica, and kept him standing. I have come thirteen thousand miles for this young fellow; I'm ready to go galloping thirteen thousand more. They used to marry us off at seventeen, rush us into things before we had time to protest. "Hear me," he cried, restraining himself with difficulty. There are men in the Lowndean who laugh at him—simply laugh at him.
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