“What a little brick!” he murmured. “I came to London,” said Ann Veronica, “rather because of my own difficulty. Don't you hear how you've made it cry?" "Throttle the kid!" rejoined Blueskin, fiercely. It did seem in so many ways exactly what Ramage said it was—the sensible thing to do. She practiced swaddling on a doll, pretending to pat the head of her imaginary infant boy.
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