He forgot Annabel’s idle attempts at love-making, all the cul-de-sac gallantry of the moment. He had removed his silk hat, and now sat looking at Ann Veronica over an untouched cup of tea; he sat gloating upon her, trying to catch her eye. I won't dig their graves with my nails. Master Thames Ditton, I'll do your biddin'; and you, Misther Quilt Arnold, may do your worst, I defy you.
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