Her two sticks were bare and brown, her snugged canvas drab, her brasses dull, her anchor mottled with rust. That’s who you ought to go and see, miss. He grunted, and his grip gave. And as he walked by her side they began a wrangle that was none the less pleasant to Ann Veronica because it served to banish a disagreeable preoccupation. Why ain’t you gorn? Seems to me I had ought to arrest you. ” He sidled toward her, but she recoiled from him, leaving him in possession of the hearth-rug.
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