Anna stood on the step and looked up and down the street for a hansom. Here and there, a rectangular patch, darker than the rest, showed that some had been removed. These little squares of coloured paper interested her mightily—hotel labels. I've some other things inside, Sir, which you might wish to buy,—some pistols. “Gods!” cried Ann Veronica, and kept him standing. But this was but a momentary gleam of personal application, and at this time she followed it up no further. Sir John stood upon the threshold. This was in Texas.
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