A lean young man in spectacles pursued her for some time, crying “Courage! Courage!” Somebody threw a dab of mud at her, and some of it got down her neck. You did not complain then that I personated you—no, nor when Sir John came to me in Paris, and for your sake I lied. It would hurt no one. ” Ann Veronica sat down, and Ramage’s eager eyes feasted on her. Spurlock was no longer a man before this instinct; he was a child in trouble. .
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