“Gods!” cried Ann Veronica, and kept him standing. " "Take a glass of gin, Ma'am," cried Poll Maggot, holding up a bottle of spirit; "it used to be your favourite liquor, I've heard. ’ ‘Are we to infer that he had a choice?’ enquired Gerald. The air was sharp and bracing, and the leaves which had taken their autumnal tints were falling from the trees. But Ann Veronica had still to get to her chief topic.
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