They drove up into Paris in an open fiacre with a soft cool wind blowing in their faces, hand in hand beneath the rug. The advanced guard had endeavoured to disperse the mob in Field Lane, but were not prepared to meet with the resistance they encountered. Then he stood up and hailed a fiacre. Are you going to have any apple-tart, Stanley? The apple-tart’s been very good lately—very good!” Part 7 At the end of dinner that evening Ann Veronica began: “Father!” Her father looked at her over his glasses and spoke with grave deliberation; “If there is anything you want to say to me,” he said, “you must say it in the study.
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