"I'm my own master now, and I'll do as I please. The militiaman at once thrust the old man between the shoulder blades, pushing him into the kitchen. "Perhaps you don't know that this Darrell so contrived matters, that your child should be mistaken for his own; by which means it had a narrow escape from a tight cravat, I can assure you. Ann Veronica’s universe, which had never been altogether so respectful to her as she could have wished, gave a shout and whirled head over heels. She dropped a flower—it’s in my pocket-book now.
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