“It’s either now or never,” said Ann Veronica, again ascending this stile. Eluding the blow, Jack plucked his sword from the scabbard, and a desperate conflict began. "My little fancy man's quite as fond of me as of you, Bess. Ennison,” she exclaimed, “is that really you?” There was no sign of embarrassment in her manner. ‘Oh, dearie me, you make me feel a traitor.
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