Nigel Ennison was he. Darell's peculiar bent of mind was exemplified in a rusty broadsword, a tall grenadier's cap, a musket without lock or ramrod, a belt and cartouch-box, with other matters evincing a decided military taste. “You’ve no right to badger me like this, Veronica,” he said. You never saw him before yesterday. On the way he confessed. “All these days I have taken her for you. I often think of those delightful evenings in Paris.
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