He was a small, dark, reserved man, with a large inflexiblelooking convex forehead, and his wife was very pink and high-spirited, with one of those chins that pass insensibly into a full, strong neck. 'Avow nothing, believe nothing, give nothing for nothing,' is my own motto. If he dies she is safe. However, it don't signify. There was a certain air of forced fortuity in his manner. “More coffee, hon?” She held her hand over the cup. Ed. She was suddenly grave. “You ARE a female thing at bottom,” he admitted. “Both!” said Ann Veronica. His gaze remained steady on the old dame’s face, as he thought about it. Between herself and yonder evil mind she had the strongest buckler God could give—love. She’s right upstairs.
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