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" "I don't object to the likeness, if any such exists, young Sir," returned Jackson, darting an angry glance at Thames; "indeed I'm rather flattered by being thought to resemble a gentleman of Mr. “What can one do?” asked Ann Veronica. Jonathan Wild?" asked the attendant, in great trepidation. The picture might easily apply to The Tigress: outwardly disreputable, but richly and comfortably appointed below. The hope that had been suddenly kindled in the youth's bosom was as suddenly extinguished. Heaven knows what dim and tawdry conceptions of passion and desire were in that blond cranium, what romance-begotten dreams of intrigue and adventure! but they sufficed, when presently Ann Veronica went out into the darkling street again, to inspire a flitting, dogged pursuit, idiotic, exasperating, indecent. The air might be cool, but half an hour without head-gear was an invitation to sunstroke. Kneebone's door, you begged me to await your return here, assuring me you would not detain me five minutes. Tell me why you ran away from the convent. And all the old—the old trick of shrinking up like a snail at a touch. He looked at her, hurt. “Oh, I can’t thank you. "No Blueskin, I perceive, Sir," he observed, in a deferential tone, as Wild entered the Lodge.
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