Remain at the door, Nab," he added, loitering for a moment behind the others, "and let no one in, or out. “I mean to,” she replied. They were ingenious disguises of gilt paper destructively gummed, it would seem, to Ann Veronicas’ best dancing-slippers. And most of the others she had met had, she felt, the same steadfastness. 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.
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