“I don’t care,” said Ann Veronica to the darkness; “I’ll fight it. "I call this ere crib the Little-Ease, arter the runaway prentices' cells in Guildhall. There was hope for me then. The next page was a drawing that she had made in pen and ink of his face, or what she had remembered of it. At last she was roused. At last the panel swung back into the library. But it annoyed Ann Veronica.
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