"The worst house in the neighbourhood—the constant haunt of reprobates and thieves," groaned Wood. Too damned chickenhearted to confess to me he’d run off with the woman. " Upon which, he plunged his oars deeply into the stream, and the bark shot from the strand. “Quite different. ’ ‘What? But—’ ‘Precisely, Hilary. They all balk because there aren't any petticoats. “LOOKS all right,” said Ann Veronica, regarding him with her head first on one side and then on the other, and trying to be agreeable. She was aware of him—a silk-hatted, shiny-black figure on the opposite side of the Avenue; and then, abruptly and startlingly, he crossed the road and saluted and spoke to her.
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