And when you reflect how much at heart your poor mother, whose loss we must ever deplore, had our union, you will, I am persuaded, no longer refuse me. He wisely refrained from questioning the manager of the Victoria. You can trust me, Anna. “I shall never marry,” said Ann Veronica, resolutely; “I’m not the sort. The cloth was removed, and Wood, drawing the table as near the window as possible—for it was getting dusk —put on his spectacles, and opened that sacred volume from which the best consolation in affliction is derived, and left the lovers—for such they may now be fairly termed—to their own conversation. The room seemed a vacuum.
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