‘Ain’t enough as my bed is took, my sheets all bloodied, and my gin took for to waste on that fellow’s wound. “Why on earth,” he asked, “did you hurt me like that?” Ann Veronica did her best to think she had not deliberately attempted to cause him pain. “I saw you in a sort of sloping, slippery place, holding on by your hands and slipping. ‘Then we will beg. After all, why need one look down. “Dare!” she said. “He is not—I don’t like him.
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