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Mr. "My chickens are hatched, or, at least, nearly so," replied Shotbolt, with increased merriment. Wood, I command you not to stir," vociferated the carpenter's better-half; "recollect you'll be answerable to me. Earles thinks I am a little mad, and between ourselves I am not sure about it myself. Remote little Ann Veronica! She would never know the heart of that child again! That child had loved fairy princes with velvet suits and golden locks, and she was in love with a real man named Capes, with little gleams of gold on his cheek and a pleasant voice and firm and shapely hands. “Don’t you know?” “Oh! I know—” “Well—” Her face was an unaccustomed pink.
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