” “I wish,” said Ann Veronica, with sudden anger, “that you could know what it is to live in a pit!” She stood up as she spoke, and put down her cup beside Miss Garvice’s. Ennison had disappeared. The white cloth was instantly dyed with crimson; but, regardless of this, Jonathan continued his murderous assault. Her husband was prouder of her every day. But it would serve. He regarded that perennial miracle of pinning with wrathful eyes.
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