It was his redemption, his ticket out of hell—that blue-serge coat. Her roving eagerness was at all times shaded with shyness, reserve, repression. Fly! they shall knock me on the head—curse 'em!—before they shall touch you. "Let me see," replied Wood; "exactly twelve years ago last November. All the furniture was moved, all the meals were disarranged, and everybody, Ann Veronica included, appeared in new, bright costumes.
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