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And now," she added, glancing contemptuously at the woollen-draper, "I'll go to Jack Sheppard. Ann Veronica found herself incompetent, undignified, and detestable, holding on desperately to a hardening antagonism to her father, quarrelling with him, wrangling with him, thinking of repartees—almost as if he was a brother. It was at his side below the breast, hidden by the dark colour of his close-fitting jacket. Here you only waste your time. Neither of them believed me. She was only a few yards from the door, but lacked the courage to rise and fly. Gravely he placed them in his aunt's hand.
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