” Ann Veronica was deciding for further confidences. Jeremiah Jackson's double. ‘Lord,’ he uttered, glancing about with a disparaging eye. “Quite on my own,” she said. She could hear the raucous laughter and bad music below. The very carts and vans and cabs that Wellington Street poured out incessantly upon the bridge seemed ripe and good in her eyes. We'll get this chap on his feet if only to learn what the trouble is. CHAPTER XXVII.
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