Ann Veronica realized that she was alone with the world. Good-bye, for the pressent—ha! ha!" And, laughing loudly at his own facetiousness, he quitted the Lodge. He rested on one elbow. The brown house, almost exactly the same as the Beck’s, turned black as pitch in the gloom. Alarmed by these prognostications of a storm, and feeling too much exhausted from his late severe treatment to proceed further on foot, Wood endeavoured to find a tavern where he might warm and otherwise refresh himself. It tore her apart. ‘Who me, sir? Lor’ no, sir.
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