" "I'm not afraid, mother," said the little girl, smelling at the bouquet. He dressed rather after the fashion of the West End than the City, and affected a cultured urbanity that somehow disconcerted and always annoyed Ann Veronica’s father extremely. They were all stout ill-favoured men, attired in the regular jail-livery of scratch wig and snuff-coloured suit; and had all a strong family likeness to each other. Also she made little pussy-like sounds of a reassuring nature. "They imagine their work is done. She looked from Anna, who was far too nice-looking to be travelling about alone, to that reassuring pile of luggage, and wrinkled her brows thoughtfully. ” Annabel shrugged her shoulders. She is called Madame Ibstock, you understand. “You’re so cute. Here, Jem, take the gentleman's horse to the stable—see him dressed and fed directly.
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