"So I think," replied Kneebone, again applying to the snuff-box, and by that means escaping the angry glance levelled at him by his companion. “You’ve no right to badger me like this, Veronica,” he said. ‘As a matter of fact, I’m not at all sympathique. I desire, Sir, you'll recollect yourself. But she was not there. Annabel half filled her glass with wine, and taking a little folded packet from her plate, shook the contents into it. Wood,—"he'll never mend.
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