How dare you use my name and sing my songs?” Anna looked at her sister in blank amazement. “Veronique!” she cried with a rising intonation, though never before had she called Ann Veronica anything but Miss Stanley, and seized her and squeezed her and kissed her with profound emotion. " The little girl's countenance fell. Kneebone, I'll make one of the party. An astonished Jack Kimble was revealed in the aperture. At the corner of Liquorpond Street stood the old Hampstead coach-office; and, on the night in question, a knot of hostlers, waggoners, drivers, and stable-boys was collected in the yard. "Well—well," grumbled Jonathan, "I suppose I must be content. Father-worshipping sons are abnormal— and they’re no good.
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