“NO!” she said, at last, with something in her voice that reminded Ann Veronica of a sprung tennis-racket. Having disposed of his steed and swallowed a glass of brandy, without taking any other refreshment, he threw himself on a couch, where he sank at once into a heavy slumber. He will have it that I’ve taken leave of my senses. I meant mischief. Sailors would leave them at the trader's.
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