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The wind blew in fitful gusts, and scattered the yellow leaves from the elms and horse-chestnuts. I was happy to oblige them, I had grown sick of the heat of the south and all the miserable sun. "Do you compare your love—a love which all may purchase—with hers? No one has ever loved me. ‘Desist, you little devil,’ he growled in her ear. He picked her up outside her last period Ceramics class. " "Nothing else?" "No. Snatching-up his pistols, he rushed to the door, but to his horror found it fastened. “Well, I don’t think you told him as much as that, did you?” Lady Lescelles asked. ” End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Ann Veronica, by H.
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