” “A little pit!” said Ann Veronica; “a little prison!” “It’s just as often a little refuge. In the periphery of her vision, she saw the door pulled back. Your laugh reminds me of—of——" "Whose, Sir?" demanded Jackson, becoming suddenly grave. '—'No fear o' that,' thought I. So he sharpened a score of pencils, and after fiddling about and rewriting the last page he had written the previous night, he plunged into work.
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