Plain, wide-mouthed, freckled, and ugly, she was an instantly jealous creature, her saving grace that she took no pains to mask her extreme dislike 47 of petite, pretty girls. The unknown, previously so attractive, now presented another face—blank. Then the bridge had arched gateways, bristling with spikes, and garnished (as all ancient gateways ought to be) with the heads of traitors. So that the thought of Ann Veronica up-stairs had been extremely painful for her through all the silent dinner-time that night. . ‘You, soldiers,’ she yelled. M. Kneebone. Attempts were made upon the door of the Lodge; but it was too strong to be forced.
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