You must forgive the poet’s license I take. Maggot was equipped in a light blue riding-habit, trimmed with silver, a hunting-cap and a flaxen peruke, and, instead of a whip, carried a stout cudgel. "Lean on me," said Jack. And yet for all that— It got into Ann Veronica’s nights at last and kept her awake, the perplexing contrast between the advanced thought and the advanced thinker. You see, aunt, it’s the only possible way for me to get a good degree in my subjects, and father won’t hear of it.
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