The procession now wound its way, without further interruption, along Holborn. Hours were spent in preparation for the event. Raven locks fell to her shoulders from under the feathered beaver hat, and curled away down her back. “Damn!” said Ann Veronica to herself, rousing herself for a conflict. “I cannot keep silence any longer. ’ ‘Parbleu, it is I who am the idiot?’ she scolded furiously, removing one hand and digging it into her sleeve. She still could not muster the strength to leave. “Tell me,” he said; “speak to me.
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