There, that sounds frightfully involved, doesn’t it, but perhaps you can make out what I mean. “You see,” said Ann Veronica, with the air of one who shares a difficulty, “I’ve promised to go. He rose deliberately to his feet and confronted them. "Goodness only knows what he's reserved for," rejoined the widow in a desponding tone; "but if Mynheer Van Galgebrok, whom I met last night at the Cross Shovels, spoke the truth, little Jack will never die in his bed. Stood on his dignity and shut us up in great style.
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