. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. "There," cried Jackson, closing the book and rising, "that'll do. This helped to restore Ann Veronica’s self-command. And when you reflect how much at heart your poor mother, whose loss we must ever deplore, had our union, you will, I am persuaded, no longer refuse me. “Have some more port wine, sir?” “It’s a very sound wine,” said Mr.
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