To-morrow, we'll go to the Fleet and get spliced. ToC "How do you mean to act, Sir?" inquired Trenchard, as soon as they were left alone. He had shaved his side-whiskers and come over in flannels, but he was still indisputably the same person who had attended Ann Veronica for the measles and when she swallowed the fish-bone. Something in her lack of embarrassment irritated him.
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