And as he walked by her side they began a wrangle that was none the less pleasant to Ann Veronica because it served to banish a disagreeable preoccupation. Believe me, Anna. “Well, I do. Kneebone," she added, with a glance at that gentleman, which was meant to speak daggers, "will do as he pleases. There were neither texts nor rubbish on the walls, but only a stirring version of Belshazzar’s feast, a steel engraving in the early Victorian manner that had some satisfactory blacks. Ruth and Spurlock separated, the one embarrassed, the other utterly dumfounded.
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