But his treasured dream lay shattered at his feet. I only wish he was not a Papist and a Jacobite. The walls are too high, and the windows too stoutly barricaded in this quarter, to admit such a supposition. "Won't you take these?" For a space he merely stared at her, perhaps wondering if she were real. Ann Veronica sat firelit by her tea-tray with, quite unconsciously, the air of an expert hostess. We will beg our bread and our shelter, and our passage on a boat. I am shockingly poor.
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