"Give me your thorough-paced villain. 150 “Homely. But it strikes me there's a nigger in the woodpile somewhere, as you Yankees say. If you were a poet in need of rhymes, you had only to turn to a certain page. It was a beautiful place that she had found, a round cave by a small stream. Manning’s feelings, and as Ann Veronica’s mind was still largely engaged with fundamentals and found no pleasure in metrical forms, she had not as yet cut its pages. Another horn now resounded from the further extremity of the thoroughfare; this was answered by a third; and presently a fourth, and more remote blast, took up the note of alarm. One day she awoke and he was cavorting about underneath the covers.
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