gutenberg. "I could almost forgive the wretch the injury he did me in depriving me of my poor dear wife—No, not quite that," he added, a little confused. ” “Wherever you like!” he answered, a little absently. ’ A derisive snort greeted this passage. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. —'How so?' says I.
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