But if I were dying of thirst, in a desert, I would not accept a cup of water at her hands. “Anna!” he exclaimed hoarsely. Your life, and that of your child, are in my power. But now Ann Veronica knew what was the matter with her. If Ann Veronica could have put words to that song they would have been, “Hot-blooded marriage or none!” but she was far too indistinct in this matter to frame any words at all. A granddaughter of mine!’ The idiocy of this notion stuck in his craw and he could think of nothing else for a moment.
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