“And think, think”—her voice sank —“of the horrible coarseness!” “What coarseness?” said Ann Veronica. He could not pull her soul apart now to satisfy that queer absorbing, delving thing which was his literary curiosity; he had put her outside that circle. My father has made every possible inquiry, and offered large rewards; but has not been able to discover the slightest trace of him. A bobbing lantern, crossing the bridge—for she had not drawn the curtain—attracted her attention.
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