"What is it?" demanded the woollen-draper, as he returned to the table, and took up a glass. She was to be handed over with her dowry of three thousand Florins, plus her pet bird, six chickens, her mother’s fine linens, a small book of poetry. He had removed his silk hat, and now sat looking at Ann Veronica over an untouched cup of tea; he sat gloating upon her, trying to catch her eye. Though within the last two days he had committed several heinous offences, and one of a darker dye than any with which the reader has been made acquainted, his breast was not yet so callous as to be wholly insensible to the stings of conscience. He went to Harvard instead. Annabel saw it, and suddenly changed her tone. He sat down beside her and stroked her hair.
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