For a time Ann Veronica’s attention was diverted by her aunt’s interest in the salted almonds. " And muttering some remarks, which we do not care to repeat, reflecting upon the consistency of the sex, he was preparing once more to depart, when Mrs. You’re of age— you’re of age. "Bolt the wicket!" shouted Ireton, who, with the others, had been not a little entertained by the gallant turnkey's discomfiture. He wore a battered sunhelmet, a loin-cloth and a pair of dilapidated canvas shoes.
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