You’re a piss-poor liar, John. ” “May I ask,” Anna said softly, “what you presume to have been the nature of my errand here this evening?” Sir John pointed to Annabel, who was as yet utterly limp. Her interest grew as she read, a certain distaste disappeared. “Don’t you care for Mr. ‘Lord,’ he uttered, glancing about with a disparaging eye. "I suppose he'll be on his feet any day now. "May I be cursed," muttered Sheppard, as he slunk away with (as the woollendraper pleasantly observed) 'a couple of boxes in charge,' "if ever I try to be honest again!" "Take a little toasted cheese with the swig, Mr. I think you’re wrong. .
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