It's fortunate we've no more Jack Sheppards, or I should stand but a poor chance. She leaned back in her chair. Ann Veronica stared for a moment in amazement at this dark-green object that clashed as it was put down. His ideas about girls and women were of a sentimental and modest quality; they were creatures, he thought, either too bad for a modern vocabulary, and then frequently most undesirably desirable, or too pure and good for life. Next moment, she had shut the bookshelf panel upon him.
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