” He said to her. Who knows?—on the analogy of “Squiggles” she might come to call him “Mangles!” “I don’t think I can ever marry any one,” she said, and fell suddenly into another set of considerations that perplexed her for a time. For a time Ann Veronica went on her way gauging the quality of sordid streets. When he came to a certain sentence in Brendon’s letter he stopped short and looked up at her. She made a step forward. A short way off in the fields he descried a sort of shed or cow-house, and thither he contrived to drag his weary limbs.
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