“But why is it preposterous?” asked Ann Veronica, and fiddled with a pipe on the mantel. He disappeared into its thick doors like a magician’s rabbit. She walked down the station approach, past the neat, obtrusive offices of the coal merchant and the house agent, and so to the wicket-gate by the butcher’s shop that led to the field path to her home. " "Curse you!" cried Jack, furiously,—"curse you!—curse you!" "Swear away, Captain," rejoined Blueskin, coolly.
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