Who knows?—on the analogy of “Squiggles” she might come to call him “Mangles!” “I don’t think I can ever marry any one,” she said, and fell suddenly into another set of considerations that perplexed her for a time. Mauled about!” She fell to rubbing her insulted lips savagely with the back of her hand. The recollection was too painful, and he burst into an agony of tears. " "I will—I will," replied Wood hastily. There is no future for me here. Raymond Plote would only be missed by his mother. “I love you, Ann Veronica.
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