" The Wastrel laughed. Quarter-staves, bludgeons, brown-bills, lanterns, swords, and sconces were alike shivered; and, to judge from the sullied state of their habiliments, the claret must have been tapped pretty freely. Ann Veronica, who knew her dress became her, dropped a curtsy to her father’s regard. Her heart thudded. She turned there and beckoned.
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