1. "It is the fiend!" she exclaimed, recoiling. Nevertheless, Ann Veronica found it a difficult matter not to think of these things. Now I’d like the rest of your story. You'll live to hate chicken; and the man in you will rise up and demand strong drink. We shall both, I hope, live to enjoy our shares—long after Thames Darrell is forgotten—ha! ha! A third of your estate I accept. Diane spooned warm apple-rhubarb pie onto the girl’s plates, topping each with scoops of ice cream.
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