I'm no mollycoddle. And, for a man who'll never see sixty again, he's in excellent preservation, I assure you. ‘What, and miss getting myself murdered?’ ‘She said she wouldn’t murder you. 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. " "On the contrary, if that is a specimen, they must be poets. Ask your own conscience. "What does he say?" roared the long drover.
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