Then Valade—was the man as big a fool as Nicholas?—tried again. He was never known to err, and was as much dreaded as the jailfever in consequence. “My friend,” she said, “no! Let me tell you this. “I’m a big boy, you know. Pipes were lighted; and Mr. Ann Veronica could at the same time ask herself what this queer old gentleman could have meant by speaking to her, and know—know in general terms, at least—what that accosting signified.
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