He turned to Ruth and McClintock. ‘How dull it must have been for you, poor little one. “I don’t care,” said Ann Veronica. " "'Ouns!" ejaculated Terence, in alarm, "would you turn snitch on your old pal, Quilt?" "Ay, if he plays a-cross," returned Quilt. “What year was 221 that, about 1350?” He asked in wonderment. Rummage, my boy, do. " At this moment, Saint Sepulchre's clock struck six. That’s where you go wrong. "I haven't offended you?"—not contritely but curiously. ” “I’ve been clearing up,” said Ann Veronica, brightly. Afterwards she hunted up the article in question, and it seemed to her quite delightfully written and argued. I cannot let you go. Yet he’s been here for six years, and he’s as much a fixture as that sham mahogany sideboard.
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