He was still thickly clad in jeans. Then abruptly Mr. Ann Veronica had no answer for a moment. “Why not?” “Because you are mine. And, mind! no prevaricating—nothing but the truth will satisfy me. Dreams of adorable infants danced through her head as she cradled blankets in her arms. At the back of the house, on a bank, rose an old-fashioned terrace-garden, full of apple-trees and other fruittrees in blossom, and lively with the delicious verdure of early spring.
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