” Anna laid down her serviette. I think you’re wrong. " "Take a glass of gin, Ma'am," cried Poll Maggot, holding up a bottle of spirit; "it used to be your favourite liquor, I've heard. They bounced without merriment over bumpy Roman roads, and by the time they arrived she was extremely nauseous. ” Anna gave her address to the driver. . Nor can we. I have always understood that men avoid like the plague a woman with a sense of humour. I am dreadfully sad. You have actually given up a dinner-party to dine alone with me. “You are unjust and quixotic, Anna, you have no right to treat any one as you are treating me.
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