“By God! Ann Veronica,” he said, sighing deeply. Then most horribly she was clasped about the waist from behind and lifted from the ground. Would to God I had. She took it for granted Ann Veronica wore stays—mild stays, perhaps, but stays, and thought no more of the matter. Despair engulfed her at the horrid remembrance that the one particular Englishman she knew to be sympathique did not at all wish to marry her. I asked him—to take me away. They stood back together and stared at it. Ruth could not be told now. Your father has forbidden you to go!’” “Well?” “She said, ‘I hate being horrid to you and father, but I feel it my duty to go to that ball!’” “Felt it her duty!” “‘Very well,’ I said, ‘then I wash my hands of the whole business. ‘But how do you come here?’ ‘Down on a routine patrol, unluckily for you,’ he answered grimly.
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