“I don’t love him,” said Ann Veronica, getting a gleam. " "My boots! Fire and fury! They won't fit you; they are too large. Having disposed of his steed and swallowed a glass of brandy, without taking any other refreshment, he threw himself on a couch, where he sank at once into a heavy slumber. It was still too dark for reading, but she could see well enough to note the number of the last page—fifty-six.
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