Some shadow of reserve seemed to have crept up between them. If nothing else had clinched that, the purse had. “Gods!” cried Ann Veronica, and kept him standing. Kneebone, are these your French noblemen?" "Don't upbraid me!" rejoined the woollen-draper. They’ll face facts as facts, and understand. The crowd dispersed in different directions, and most fortunately a heavy shower coming on, put them altogether to flight. The knight and his followers crossed the threshold, leaving one of the torch-bearers behind them.
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