But the world didn’t do that. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. "Bless your soul! d'ye think I'm to be gammoned by such nonsense. He had the same dark eyes, though lighted by a fierce flame; the same sallow complexion; the same tall, thin figure, and majestic demeanour; the same proud cast of features. ” “She has chances?” he said, helping her out.
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