The ribald demons that infested the back of Ann Veronica’s mind urged various facetious interrogations upon her, as, for example, where the witness had acquired his prose style. ‘What in Hades d’ye mean, thanks to me? Want to blame anyone, blame that rapscallion who calls himself your father. "Gadzooks! I thought something was coming on; for when I looked at the weather-glass an hour ago, it had sunk lower than I ever remember it. I was the black sheep, I was hurried out of the way. “Actually, I am, it is terribly stupid. Papa doesn't even care, but he just goes along with whatever my Mom says. I trust that no unpleasant rumours will be circulated before the election, at any rate. When he beheld Jack he uttered a deep groan. Just an idea of mine. I once might have married you for your beauty,—now I marry you for your wealth.
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