"Do you realize that you are several kinds of a damned scoundrel?" he began. Ann Veronica could at the same time ask herself what this queer old gentleman could have meant by speaking to her, and know—know in general terms, at least—what that accosting signified. And guess what? I don’t sleep much, if you haven’t noticed. It is that, is it not?” “No,” he answered readily. Stow it in the saddle, for I will take it with me. John said nothing.
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