\"I'm sixteen, I'm a junior like you. How can he help you?” She threw such a look upon him that even he, Sir John Ferringhall, carpetmerchant, hide-bound Englishman, slow-witted, pompous, deliberate, felt his heart beat to music. “I don’t care what any one thinks,” said Ann Veronica. She regarded him coldly, as though wondering whether he had anything further to say. ‘Good God!’ uttered Roding. She was naturally weaker, she would tire quicker, and she need not concern herself with the peculiar obligations of honour obtaining amongst gentlemen. No fear o' that. Set yourself to find it out, if you will—but if you do, never dare to call yourself my friend again. Left alone with Edgeworth Bess, Jack burst into a loud laugh of exultation.
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