That's how I finally got wind of it. ‘I’m not going to arrest you, young Jack—yet. “Yeah. Here's his health likewise. "Your uncle, Sir Rowland?" "It is no idle boasting," replied the other. The telegram reminded Ann Veronica that she had no place for interviews except her bed-sitting-room, and she sought her landlady and negotiated hastily for the use of the ground floor parlor, which very fortunately was vacant. Twenty guineas, mind.
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