“Your little flag of pride must flutter down with the rest of them, Ann Veronica. "Long life to the Marquis!" reiterated Terence; "he's an honour to ould Ireland!" "Didn't I tell you how it would be?" remarked Quilt. ‘All these soldiers,’ she complained, adding with a sweep of one arm at the major’s dress, ‘all of them in red as you. We’ll leave him here, with a couple of others. Reverse psychology or something, it’s like she was trying to draw him nearer by pushing him away.
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