(Fifteen pounds! And she wanted forty!) Part 4 It was, perhaps, the natural consequence of a long and tiring and exciting day that Ann Veronica should pass a broken and distressful night, a night in which the noble and self-subduing resolutions of Canongate displayed themselves for the first time in an atmosphere of almost lurid dismay. She could not resist enduing persons she met with the noble attributes of the fictional characters. "It is her child!" shrieked Rowland, in a voice heard above the howling of the tempest, "risen from this roaring abyss to torment me. But,” and he faced them both with a still expressionless glance, “this is not the end!” Anna recovered her spirits with marvellous facility. She directed him to an old part of the highway, a featureless stretch of old farmhouses capped in snow, with the occasional working silo. His hat was placed upon one pole, his wig on another. When the paroxysm passed, he was forced to lean against the window-jamb for support.
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