There is not a soul in the inn but ourselves. She opened the door to him herself. “Let us put the lamp out,” she said; “the flames are ever so much better for talking,” and Ann Veronica agreed. 1. Danger, in the form he apprehended, was lurking outside: nor was he destined to enjoy long repose. For a time Ann Veronica went on her way gauging the quality of sordid streets. She had been quite convinced that an engagement with him and at last a marriage had exactly that quality of compromise which distinguishes the ways of the wise.
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