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. The man muttered something inaudible, and gathered up the reins. “I had no idea that it was so abominably late. Here he halted; and, looking upwards, read, at the foot of an immense sign-board, displaying a gaudily-painted angel with expanded pinions and an olive-branch, not the name he expected to find, but that of WILLIAM KNEEBONE, WOOLLENDRAPER. CHAPTER THE NINTH DISCORDS Part 1 One afternoon, soon after Ann Veronica’s great discovery, a telegram came into the laboratory for her. Suppose her father turned her out of doors! She did not care, she meant to go. “Then what did you do?” Lucy’s eyes leveled with her. .
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