Ann Veronica looked bright and a little elated, and she disregarded her father’s invitation to be seated. She had warned him. Manning,” she said, “for a time—Will you tell no one? Will you keep this—our secret? I’m doubtful—Will you please not even tell my aunt?” “As you will,” he said. Another door was next opened, and, preceded by the ordinary, with the sacred volume in his hand, the prisoner entered the room. E. Moreoever, it had cost her a whipping and several days’ imprisonment in her cell on bread and water.
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