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” “Not long ago,” she said, “you left me in anger, partly because of this exchange of identities between Annabel and myself. Simply because they are hardened by—by bestiality, and poisoned by the juices of meat slain in anger and fermented drinks—fancy! drinks that have been swarmed in by thousands and thousands of horrible little bacteria!” “It’s yeast,” said Ann Veronica—“a vegetable. The events that had initially followed in the wake of her triumph over Emile Gosse had quite confused and dazed her. In stature, he was short and stumpy; in person, corpulent; and in countenance, sleek, snub-nosed, and demure. ‘Tchah! So you’re the whelp’s girl, are you? Suppose you’ve nothing but that villainous French in your tongue. This woman knows me—’ throwing the remark at Lucilla ‘—and that I am the daughter of Mary Remenham. ‘You’re not going to kill me this time. . And I’ve read, and thought, and guessed, and looked—until MY innocence—it’s smirched. And, in applying the term to his friend, Thames meant to pay him a high compliment. Come down with me to the Lodge directly. Good-bye, Anna!” Annabel sprang up. “How are you feeling?” She asked with grave concern in her voice. “I cannot say more.

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