But then Lady Palsworthy had never seen Ann Veronica running like the wind at hockey. Hogarth, didn't I see you last night at the ridotto with Lady Thornhill and her pretty daughter?" "Me!—no, Sir," stammered Hogarth, colouring. She rambles continually about Jack, and her husband, and that wretch Jonathan, to whom, as far as can be gathered from her wild ravings, she attributes all her misery. My motive in coming hither is to serve you, and save your life.
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